Twisted World
by LolliliciousLolly
Summary: What if Paul was the ghost that haunted Suze's bedroom, still his sleazy, sly self? What if Jesse was alive and a powerful shifter? Would sparks still fly between him and Suze? And how far would Paul go to get what he wants...? [Sequel: Addicted]
1. What if?

Disclaimer: Don't own anything you recognize. I own this plot alone. All other things that your recognize from the Mediator Series belong to Meg Cabot. A/N: This is a fanfiction where two roles have been reversed. I tihnk you'll find out who very quickly, *wink wink.* Enjoy!  
  
**************************************************************************** ***  
  
*Flashback. *  
  
I walked in to what was to be my new room. It was perfect. Everything was pink, and very feminine. The double bed had a beautiful canopy, and just below the huge, foggy window was a plush window seat, with beautiful looking cushions on it.  
  
'Do you like it Susie?' mum asked, frowning, and twisting her auburn hair around a slender finger in an apprehensive manner.  
  
I smiled. It was just so perfect. I could tell that her and Andy had spent a lot of time decorating it.  
  
'It's . . .' I trailed off, as I heard something that made me stop dead.  
  
It was a laugh. A very deep, cunning laugh.  
  
And then, I saw something behind a grinning, sweaty Andy that made all blood drain from my face.  
  
This room was already occupied.  
  
'I - but - who . . .' I stuttered, looking wildly past Andy.  
  
Mum's worried frown turned into an annoyed one.  
  
'Oh, Suze,' she groaned, 'not again . . .'  
  
~*~  
  
As soon as I got Mum and Andy out of the room, I walked straight over to what had made me so frightened before.  
  
There, leaning nonchalantly against my new closet, was a guy. Quite a guy. I would go as far as to say he was a stud. I mean, h-h-hot! His dark hair fell messily yet smartly over his forehead, and he was looking out the window in a very bored way. Oh, and it didn't help that what he was wearing was just YUMMY. He donned a tight fit shirt over a body that was totally to- die-for! You could totally see the definition of his washboard abs. And the biceps weren't shabby, either. Oh, not at all. His jeans were baggy, and very street wear, with chains and belts dangling on the right. Around his neck was a bulky silver necklace, and sunnies were shielding his eyes. But he was totally tanned, obviously because he got out a lot.  
  
Hottie alert!  
  
It was just a pity he was dead.  
  
That's right, a ghost.  
  
I could totally tell, by the way that his body was glowing in that spectral way that only ghosts do.  
  
I just stared for a few seconds, until he finally turned his head. And I saw his mouth drop open.  
  
He whipped off his sunnies, and I saw his eyes . . . They were gorgeous, mysterious, and roguish all at the same time. They were an icy blue, yet there was something dark about them . . .  
  
'Er, hi,' I said, still shocked.  
  
He blinked, and then seemed to choke on his own spit.  
  
'Holy crap, you can see me?!' he asked in awe, standing up straight. Whoa! He was tall, man! I stumbled back a step, because he was looking at me in a really weird way. It was stunned, yet . . . I dunno, uh, smug. Like I said, it was weird.  
  
'Well obviously,' I said, rolling my eyes. Yeah, okay, I tossed my hair too, because I already made it clear that the dude was a good looker. 'Oh, I can hear you too. Isn't technology these days amazing?'  
  
He was still looking at me up and down.  
  
'Who are you?' he asked, crossing his arms, and leaning back on the closet, acting all cool and casual again. well, he at least, seemed to be over his shock.  
  
I wasn't.  
  
'Excuse me?' I snapped, 'Who are YOU? And what the hell are you doing in my room?' I put my hands angrily on my hips, trying to look all "don't mess with me, bud." However, it only served to make him smile. It was a smile that made my spine seem to click out of place slightly. It was crooked at one end, which did nothing for my fear. Yeah, so I was scared? It's not a crime, is it?  
  
Well, okay, for me it is, but yeah.  
  
He was still smiling that little twisted smile, and it was way freaking me out now.  
  
'Get out of my room,' I hissed, and turned to leave.  
  
Then, in one swift movement, this guy had grabbed me around the waist, and had slammed me against the wall. Not brutally, or anything, but it was enough to know that he was dangerous.  
  
'You are a medium,' he said, looking down at me, with a suppressed ferocity burning in his icy eyes. That smile was still tugging at his lips.  
  
'No kidding, blockhead,' I retorted. Again, he slammed me against the wall. This time, it hurt. Okay, now I was pissed.  
  
'Hey, buster, piss off!' I snarled, and gathering my strength, I shoved him back. He staggered, and fell inches from my new bed. He wasn't angry though. He was still smiling.  
  
'I have a name, you know,' he said with amusement. He stood up, and sat on the edge of my bed comfortably. Again, I swallowed nervously.  
  
'What is it, numb nut?'  
  
He chose not to hear me. 'Do you want to know my name?' he asked, resting back on my bed, his arms above his head. He was still looking at me.  
  
Still smiling.  
  
Oh, I'm so glad HE had something to smile about.  
  
When I didn't answer, he just laughed softly, shaking his head ever so slightly at me. My skin crawled with dread.  
  
'I'm Paul. Paul Slater. And this is MY room.'  
  
I blinked, and then scoffed. 'Yeah, nice name, bucko. And no, this is not your room. It's mine, now. I legally own this place, and even so, I'm sure that frills don't work with you. Now leave, or I'll make you.'  
  
The Paul dude sat up slowly. 'Really?' he asked, delightedly. 'I'd like to see you try.'  
  
Suddenly, something registered.  
  
'Wait,' I said, stopping dead. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. 'Uh, how do you know that I'm a mediator?'  
  
'Medium,' he said, 'But mediator is also a correct term. I know, because I used to be one.'  
  
Whoa.  
  
I mean . . . WHOA!  
  
'Seriously?' I asked. This was out of the ordinary, now. I went and perched myself on the window seat. He was still watching my every move . . .  
  
'Yeah. Well, more or less. I was more powerful than a medium, but I'll work with that, so you understand.' He stood up again, and I flinched slightly. Hey, the guy scared me . . . His eyes were so pale, yet so entrancing, haunting, even. He was dangerous. Oh, very dangerous. I'd have to watch my back, here.  
  
'By the way, what's your name?' he asked, going over to my dresser, and picking up one of the bottles of red nail polish that mum had set up oh so carefully for me.  
  
I took a moment to reply. 'Ah . . . I'm - well, I -'  
  
Paul laughed, examining the nail polish more.  
  
'Suze. Just call me Suze,' I said breathlessly.  
  
'Suze,' he said raising his eyebrows as he bought the bottle right in front of his face. 'Susan? Suzanne? Or . . . Susannah?'  
  
'Susannah,' I answered. 'But don't call me that. Suze will do -'  
  
SMASH!  
  
I jumped, and let out a startled shriek as the little bottle of vanish in his hands exploded, blobs of scarlet flying everywhere, even through him. Little shards of glass drifted to the floor, among the small puddles of red.  
  
Okay . . . There was a guy in my bedroom who'd just shattered a bottle of nail polish with his MIND. Can anyone sense a problem for little Susie?  
  
'Nice one,' I snarled, standing up instantly in protest, 'for your information, that was Nailfinity! You know how much that costs, you bastard?'  
  
Oops.  
  
Unexpectedly, he materialized right in front of me. My eyes went way wide. He grabbed me by the arms, and dragged me over to my bed. I squealed and struggled, but he wouldn't let go. I mean that grip he had on my arms? Yeah, it was like iron.  
  
IRON.  
  
'Let go of me, you psychopath!' I scowled, still thrashing about recklessly, as he threw me down on the mattress. Then, just before he could do anything, uh, rash, I rolled off the bed, and was out that room like it was 70% off at the shoe store.  
  
At the foot of the stairs, I plopped my butt down, panting. This was not good . . . Not good at all . . .  
  
The ghost of earth's hottest guy was in my new bedroom. Just why did he have to be an asshole? WHY? What did I do to deserve THAT?! Why couldn't I just get a normal, nice dude who'd call me sweetheart and would not hold me in vice-like grips that made my arms go all red and puffy?  
  
This was NOT COOL!  
  
Yeah, you could understand why I was pretty miffed . . .  
  
'Susie?'  
  
I screamed, and turned to see who dared call me that.  
  
'Paul! Leave me alone! I -'  
  
I stopped, as I turned and saw David, (although, I affectionately call him Doc,) standing there, with his sticky out ears, his flaming red hair, his too-big glasses, and his mouth open in polite disbelief.  
  
'Er, you all right?' he asked, frowning under bushy orange eyebrows.  
  
I swallowed, stood up, and seized him by one of his abnormally large ears. 'Never, I repeat, NEVER, under any circumstances, call me "Susie." Do we have an understanding?' I whispered murderously.  
  
He nodded, terrified. 'Yeah, I got you. No Susie. Sorry, uh . . . What do I call you?'  
  
'Suze,' I replied. 'Suze is good.' I let go of his ear, and he took a few steps back, bashing into the wall behind him, and knocking a photo frame to the ground. The glass shattered.  
  
He went beet red. 'Uh, you didn't see that,' he said, bending over and cleaning it up, providing me with a lovely view of his bony posterior. I wrinkled my nose, and smiled in spite of myself. 'And I'm sorry for calling you Sus . . . sorry, I won't say it. I hope that you aren't at all displeased with me.'  
  
I smiled. I mean, he was just so nerdy, it was kind of cute. 'Nah, we're cool.'  
  
Again, he blushed.  
  
I . . .  
  
*End of flashback . . . *  
  
. . . 'Suze. You wanna listen?'  
  
I shook my head. Great, I was daydreaming. Again.  
  
'What?' I asked blearily. I was sitting in my room, with my head against the desk, trying to study. It had been two weeks since I'd arrived in Carmel, only to find that my bedroom wasn't as vacant as it should have been. I looked over my shoulder, and saw that that Paul guy had materialized behind me. Directly, my heart began to beat a little faster. It hadn't been exactly smooth sailing since we had first met. It was like living on the edge. Everyday, I knew that my life was in danger. Because, when that Paul dude got mad, he always took it out on little ol' me . . .  
  
And I was nothing compared to his ghostly powers.  
  
'Uh, hey . . .' I said nervously, edging away from him slightly  
  
'Look, you wanna know how I died?' he asked with annoyance. 'If I tell you, will you stop asking?'  
  
I sat up, attentive. 'Yeah, okay . . . Maybe we can see what's holding you back.'  
  
He raised his eyebrows at me. Oh so typical.  
  
'Yeah, whatever. I'm not moving on. I'm staying right where I am. But yeah. I do know exactly what's holding me back. Or who, I should say.'  
  
This was a bit freaky. He was, like, glaring at me, with a fire in his eyes that suggested . . . I dunno, the need to kill, or something.  
  
'And that is?' I prompted, moving my hand in small circles in a "continue?" manner.  
  
His look became darker.  
  
'I'm still here because of my killer. His name is . . .' He trailed off. I could see that his fists were clenched, so his knuckles were shining white. Whoa. Suddenly, things around my room began to shake slightly.  
  
'Paul!' I said in alarm. 'Just tell me the dude's name, and stop it! You're scaring me!' he was too.  
  
He relaxed, but only a bit.  
  
'His name,' he said, spitting slightly in loathing, 'is Jesse De Silva.'  
  
**************************************************************************** ***  
  
*Flashback . . . *  
  
(Paul's POV.)  
  
I heard the woman and her husband walk in, and didn't think anything of it. They were always in here, fixing up this gloomy room, and painting everything pink.  
  
Eugh.  
  
I wasn't in the best mood. Because, judging my the decorations, I knew that some little bratty girl would end up moving in.  
  
And a little bratty girl was no fun at ALL for me.  
  
So when a chick of about sixteen stepped in, I stopped and looked. Whoa, what a babe. I looked with interest at her. Oh, she was very curvy, with a beautiful face, and the most stunning emerald eyes I'd ever seen. And the hair . . . It was floating around her shoulders in a cloud of majestic brown. Okay, things were definitely looking up. I watched as she was looking around her room with a dreamy expression on her face. She had looked, everywhere, in fact, but at me. I was blocked from view by who I assumed to be her father. But then, why should she look at me? I was a ghost.  
  
Because of bloody De Silva . . .  
  
'Do you like it . . .' the woman asked, frowning. I didn't here the girl's name. Oh well, I'd get it off her later, somehow . . . By scaring the living daylights out of her? I laughed.  
  
Once I was done looking at my new, ah, roommate, I turned to look out to the ocean, that was so close. I like the beach, it's a wicked place to be, with all the surfing at the sea spray. Just a pity that I'd never be able to do it again . . .  
  
I must have been looking out there a long time, because suddenly, I felt the gaze of somebody. I turned my head, and there stood the chick, gawking at me like she was trying to catch flies, or something.  
  
Hang on!  
  
I whipped off my glasses, to check that my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. Nah, she was looking at me, all right. In her eyes, I could sense a feeling of wonder and admiration. This was normal. I used to have this affect of girls back when . . .  
  
. . . When I was alive.  
  
But this, this was a totally different situation.  
  
'Er, hi,' she wheezed. Poor babe, looked like she was about to faint or something. Hehehe, that wouldn't be so bad . . . I could play knight in shining armour.  
  
But yeah. I blinked, and my throat seized up.  
  
'Holy crap, you can see me?' I checked. I could feel an excitement brewing in me. Oh, this was good. Very good. She was in my bedroom, with a bed little than a meter away, and she was mine . . .  
  
All mine.  
  
I smiled in total satisfaction. Oh, I liked this a lot.  
  
She seemed unnerved by my grinning. 'Well, obviously,' she said in a way that suggested she was trying to act tough. But I could see right through her. She was scared of me. Yes! She rolled her eyes. 'Isn't technology these days amazing?'  
  
My grin widened. Oh, she had my sense of humour. Blunt sarcasm. We were old souls. I looked at her body again, and was aroused even more.  
  
I folded my arms, and leant back, still smiling in a smug way. Oh, it was so hard to rein in . . . But I'd have to.  
  
'Who are you?' I asked, raising my eyebrows. I felt her dread.  
  
'Excuse me?' she shot back acidly, 'Who are YOU?! And what the hell are you doing in my room?!'  
  
That amused me even more. Oh, she was already mine. She was so unbelieveably sexy. Perfect for me. What a flawless body! This situation couldn't have been more perfect. My grin widened, and my eyes were burnt on her. I felt her shrink within herself. Her eyes opened further, and she subconsciously stepped back.  
  
Then, she put her hands on her hips. I could see she was annoyed. Annoyed that she had allowed fear to claim her so easily. She now glared at me, but the dread didn't leave her eyes.  
  
'Get out of my room,' she whispered in a way that made me snap. I couldn't control this desire any longer. As she turned to leave, I stepped forward, seized her around the waist, and slammed her against the wall. She looked up at me wildly. I breathed heavily down on her. Oh, self-control was so hard!  
  
'You are a medium,' I stated, my breath slightly ragged. My eyes were narrowed, fighting the craving that burnt me from within. Her eyes were so beautiful. Like a sparkling lake of green, in the sunlight. They were like magic, I would go as far to say.  
  
'No kidding, blockhead,' she snapped, and tried to get free. She almost did too. Oh, she was strong. Perfect . . . I slammed her on the wall again, and she looked very hopeless for a split second. I had already won her. It was too easy.  
  
'Hey, piss off!' she shouted, and I felt myself flying back. Like I said, she was strong. But not strong enough for what I could do to her . . . I landed very close to her bed. 'I have a name, you know,' I said, and sat on the edge of it. it was a very cosy bed. I saw her gulp.  
  
'What is it, numb nut?' she said fiercely.  
  
I smiled. Oh, if only she knew . . .  
  
'Do you want to know my name?' I said. I lay down on her bed, propping my head up with my hand, still watching her. Oh, she was divine. Once again, I praised God for this perfect prey that he had sent to me. She was so naïve, so pure.  
  
So mine!  
  
I laughed out loud, and shook my head in disbelief. Where HAD this idyllic luck come from, I ask?  
  
She didn't answer me. I could see her hands beginning to shake. 'I'm Paul. Paul Slater,' I introduced, nodding slightly.  
  
She blinked, and then sneered. 'Yeah, nice name, bucko. And no, this is not your room. It's mine, now. I legally own this place, and even so, I'm sure that frills don't work with you. Now leave, or I'll make you.'  
  
I sat up. Now, this was getting fun. 'Really?' I asked gleefully, 'I'd like to see you try.'  
  
Her eyes narrowed, but then, she stopped dead.  
  
'Wait,' she said, taking a step toward me, 'how do you know that I'm mediator?'  
  
Mediator? Oh yeah, that's what some people call mediums.  
  
'Medium,' I corrected, 'But mediator is also a correct term. And, I know, because I used to be one.'  
  
Her reaction was very rewarding. Again, I thought that she was going to faint. Her eyes were fixed on me in incredulity, and her luscious lips were opened in a tiny O.  
  
All yours, Paul.  
  
'S-Seriously?' she stuttered. She stumbled over to the window seat, her hand on her chest. I could imagine that this was a lot to take in. I almost felt sorry for her, you know. Almost.  
  
'Yeah. Well, more or less. I was more powerful than a medium, but I'll work with that, so you understand,' I said fairly. Of course I was more powerful than a stupid medium! I was one of the greatest shifters that had ever been! I had cast all others into shadow, including my grandfather, AND De Silva! I stood up angrily, and saw her recoil a little. She was looking rather dizzy, as if hoping that none of this was happening.  
  
Well, babe, it is.  
  
'By the way, what's your name?' I enquired with an arched eyebrow. I wandered over to her dressing table. Feugh . . . There were heaps of little bottles of nail polish, hair brushes, little jewelry boxes, and all those other girly things that us guys steer clear of. I smiled maliciously, and picked up one of her nail polished. The liquid inside was as red as the blood I used to bleed.  
  
She hadn't replied me, but was opening her mouth and closing it again. 'Ah . . . I'm - well, I -'  
  
I laughed. This was just so funny. Out of all the girls that I'd met, no one had been as scared as this. Mind you, I'd never ambushed anyone in their bedroom, and no other girl had seen me as a ghost. But I'm sure this one knew that I could kill her with a single look.  
  
That was what was so appealing.  
  
'Suze. Just call me Suze,' she said in a jumbled rush.  
  
'Suze.' That was nice. Nothing too slutty, nothing too horrible. I held the bottle of nail polish right in front of my face, reading the label. I wanted to make sure that it stained. 'Let me guess . . . Susan? Suzanne? Or . . . Susannah?'  
  
Susannah,' she answered, still looking at me strangely. 'But don't call me that. Suze will do -'  
  
As she said that, I concentrated all my brain power and my willpower on the liquid in that bottle. And . . .  
  
SMASH!  
  
I relished in her brief scream, and smiled. The vanish exploded everywhere, just as I had commanded it to. It stained everything and anything within ten centimeters. I began to laugh, as she fell off the window seat.  
  
'Nice one,' she snarled at me, her face contorting in anger and some fear. She stood up, glaring at me. 'For your information, that was Nailfinity! You know how much that costs, you bastard?'  
  
Oh, the vehemence in her voice made me crack like a twig. I lost control completely. Instantly, I made myself disappear with a scintillating blue glow. I materialized right in front of her standing before the window seat, and heaved her over to the bed. She screamed and thrashed about, but I didn't care. Nor did I let go. I knew that this was going to happen soon. Why not now? I'd been dead for six months, I needed to . . . indulge myself  
  
Grinning malevolently, I pushed her down. She was yelling bloody murder at me, screaming, 'Let go of me, you psychopath!' but that only served to fuel my passion even more.  
  
But then, just as I let go of her wrists for a split second, she jumped clean off the bed and was out of the room like a stampede of elephants was after her.  
  
I sank onto the bed, still breathing heavily.  
  
I laughed, staring sinfully at the open door.  
  
Oh well. There was always next time . . .  
  
I'd have her in the end. As I always did. **************************************************************************** ********* A/N: Well? How bad was it? Nah, I think it was all right. Just please, I hope to get about five reviews. I have already written chapter 2, but I want to see how many reviews I can get first. Please tell me what you think, and give me any ideas! Oh, tell me what you think of Paul, too. That's important to me, seeing as he is the character that I have the most trouble with. Thanks for reading! Remember, REVIEW NOW! Love Princess Roxanne. 


	2. Dark Temptations

A/N: I am in such a great mood! NINE REVIEWS! You guys rock the world, I swear. I promise, Jesse will come in soon, and yes, he IS good! You'll find out his reason soon enough, okay?  
  
KEEP REVIEWING! I love feeling loved . . .  
  
Did I get this up fast? Well, that's because I got reviews! Can we make 15? Sorry, I have a thing with fives.  
  
I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!!!  
  
Er . . . that was weird, wasn't it?  
  
**************************************************************************** *******************  
  
Last Chapter: 'I'm still here because of my killer. His name is . . .' He trailed off. I could see that his fists were clenched, so his knuckles were shining white. Whoa. Suddenly, things around my room began to shake slightly.  
  
'Paul!' I said in alarm. 'Just tell me the dude's name, and stop it! You're scaring me!' he was too.  
  
He relaxed, but only a bit.  
  
'His name,' he said, spitting slightly in loathing, 'is Jesse De Silva.'  
  
**************************************************************************** *******  
  
I sat in my computer chair, listing to him intently. Oh, that voice was so deep, and masculine, and enigmatic. It cast me in a secret spell that captivated me. I didn't know what it was, yet, but I knew that Paul was bad. Everything about him was bad, and if I listened to him too long, I would turn bad too . . .  
  
And that was why I was scared to death.  
  
He was sitting on top of my canopy. "Huh?" you say. I know, it I tried, it would so break, but Paul's a ghost, and gravity doesn't count for him all the time. I mean, it does most of the times, but when he is thinking about elevation, or whatever, he can make anything float.  
  
Including himself.  
  
And he always liked to be in a top position.  
  
'Yeah,' I said, my voice very thin, 'But HOW did you die? Like, were you drowned, or shot, or what?'  
  
He was still glaring at me. 'No, I'm not telling you that,' he said softly. 'I'm just telling you who. That's all you need to know for now, Susie.'  
  
I saw red.  
  
'Don't,' I warned, 'CALL ME THAT!'  
  
He grinned in a way that transformed my anger to fright.  
  
'Susie,' he said teasingly. His grin only added to his deadly, dark appeal. His whole face was in shadow, for it was near midnight at the moment. The half-moon outside was glowing dully outside, trying to peak through the thick, black clouds. The sky was a gloomy, deep and overcast blue that seemed to go on forever. The stars had no hope of being seen this dark, dead night.  
  
I shivered, because the gentle breeze that was blowing from outside through the open window was so COLD. I released a shuddering breath, and turned back to my Chemistry book. We were learning about elements. I know, way basic, but Miss Phillips is a French fry short of a Happy Meal, in my opinion.  
  
Come on, Suze, study.  
  
Don't think about bad ass Paul, just study.  
  
Study or Miss Phillips will have your brains for breakfast . . .  
  
'Oh, Susie . . .'  
  
I spun around, my heart beating fast. 'WHAT?!' I shouted in pure frustration, slamming my Chemistry book shut.  
  
But Paul had gone.  
  
I turned back to the periodic table, my heart rate ever increasing -  
  
'Boo!'  
  
I screamed, and I saw Paul's face right in front of mine. He'd totally materialized right in front of me, so his shadowy, tanned face was smirking at me. He had even stepped through my desk, being a ghost!  
  
'PAUL!' I roared, 'Get OUT!'  
  
He walked around me, looking at me with mock hurt. 'Oh come on, Suze,' he said. 'Liven up.' He raised his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
I just shut my eyes and slowly counted to ten. If I kept yelling like this in the middle of the night, someone was bound to come up and ask what the hell was wrong with me. Dopey would claim to need beauty sleep, (and trust me, he needed plenty of it,) and Doc would give me that "Is there something paranormal here that I should know about?" stare. But Sleepy wouldn't have a problem. He just wouldn't wake up.  
  
'Paul, look,' I said carefully, still not looking at him. I could feel his gaze burning on the back of my neck. Again, I shivered, but this time it wasn't due to the cold. 'I have to study. I know you're . . . bored, but I have to study. I have a test tomorrow, and if I -'  
  
'Suze, seriously, why are you wasting your time on Chemistry?' he asked with a laugh. It was a nerve-jangling, humourless laugh. He really was bored. 'You could be focusing on other things. Things that I could teach you . . .'  
  
I had to admit, that sounded really intriguing. Again, I turned around, blinking cluelessly. 'What do you mean?' I whispered. I looked way up at his face, trying to decide whether he was just messing with my mind. He seemed to like doing that.  
  
He stooped slightly. 'I could teach you about . . . yourself. What you are, and what you can really do as a mediator,' he breathed with a mildly fervent twinkle in his eyes.  
  
He was telling the truth. I could feel it. And I was getting excited. He could tell me the secrets, and why I was what I am! He . . .  
  
**Everything about him was bad, and if I listened to him too long, I would turn bad too . . .**  
  
I stopped myself, and turned back around to my studies. It took great strength to open up that text book, and turn away from the truth about who I was. But I had willpower enough to do it.  
  
'Suze,' he said in chiding tones. 'You don't understand what I'm offering here, do you?'  
  
I ignored him.  
  
Study, Suze!  
  
"The periodic table is composed of elements -"  
  
This time, it was Paul who slammed the Chem. book shut. I gasped, and recoiled slightly. He stood behind me, playing vaguely with my long, dark hair. I looked straight ahead stubbornly. Not good, not good, not good . . . It was like Satan himself was trying to give me the forbidden fruit from the tree.  
  
And I was falling for it.  
  
'Suze, Suze, Suze,' he tutted, running a chilling finger down my bare arm. My nerves went freakin' haywire, and Paul could sense it, if the way he continued to do it was any indication. My whole body felt like it had pins and needled. It was painful, yet it felt so good at the same time. I released a low, frightened gasp, squeezing my eyelids tightly shut, trying to escape this moment.  
  
He hissed alluringly in my ear, 'I could teach you so MUCH, if you'd only just open your mind to me, and let me tell you everything that you are meant to be, and how powerful you really are. How powerful we could be . . . ' He rested a cold hand on my shoulder. It had no warmth, no caressing feeling. Just enticing . . .  
  
For the third time, I shuddered.  
  
'P-P-Paul,' I faltered. This was tearing me up. I knew he wanted me to give in, but I wouldn't. I would be tempted by his most likely false realities. 'If . . . If I want your help, I'll ask for it. Now back off, I'm studying.'  
  
His hand slid off my shoulder in disgust, and I heard him step back.  
  
'Fine, Susie,' he said tauntingly. 'When you want answers, and you will . . . you know where to find them . . .'  
  
And I heard him dematerialize with a shimmering, tinkling sound, like dropping thousands of infinitesimal crystals on a sheet of cold glass.  
  
As soon as I was sure that he was definitely gone, I went to bed, terrified. Never in my life had I felt like this, so tempted, and so terrified!  
  
Sleep claimed me immediately, yet my dreams were not at all comforting. They were dark, misty, and always featured a shadowy figure.  
  
Paul was even haunting my sleep . . .  
  
~*~  
  
'Suze! Get up now! You've got TEN MINUTES!' Sleepy roared up the stairs.  
  
I rolled over on my bed groggily, groaning.  
  
'SUSANNAH SIMON!'  
  
Now that screech, I couldn't ignore!  
  
'Okay, mum, I'm up!' I yelled back. Rolling my eyes, I dragged myself to my wardrobe, and randomly grabbed something cute to wear. Then, with a furtive look around, I dashed into the bathroom and got changed. I mean, this is what I'd done ever since I realized that Paul had watched my change once. And that's just . . .  
  
Wrong.  
  
. . . Ewww . . .  
  
I mean, having a pervert living in your bedroom? NOT cool. No, it's really actually quite disgusting. I mean, I'm not saying that I look hideous in the buff, but that's not the point! It's just corrupt to look at someone in the nuddy!  
  
Especially when that someone is ME!  
  
And the looker is Paul Eat-Me Slater!  
  
I sighed. What did I ever do?  
  
I didn't feel like having a shower that morning. And with only ten minutes, there wasn't any point. I did, however, wet my hair and blow-dry it. It looked all windswept now. And my little ensemble of clothes was totally cute. I had this little blue cardigan over a yellow singlet top, and a pair of woolly pink trousers. Very snazzy.  
  
What? I like pink.  
  
Oh, shut up . . .  
  
After I washed my teeth, I went back out and lay in bed for a moment, my chest rising and falling. I looked over, and suddenly realized that the window was shut. Oh, how sweet. Paul had closed it for me.  
  
It was weird. Even though I hadn't seen Paul since last night, it felt like he'd been near me the whole night. I hadn't forgotten how he'd entered my dreams, and how he'd warped my sleeping mind. Well, okay, he wasn't doing it directly, but the way he treated me when I was awake was reflecting in my dreams.  
  
They were now nightmares.  
  
I just hoped he wasn't an *incubus as well as an asshole . . . that would send me over the edge. (A/N: *Look it up, kiddies. Lol)  
  
For the millionth time, I shuddered in spite of the pleasant warmth.  
  
'SUZE!'  
  
'I'm ready!' I snapped back. I grabbed a piece of toast from Andy, and hopped in the car.  
  
~*~  
  
I should probably tell you about CeeCee Webb and Adam McTavish.  
  
I'd made friends with CeeCee on the first day, because this total cow, Debbie Mancuso, was paying her out for being albino. I mean, so? What a racist bitch, huh? So, I, oh, I dunno, threatened to snap her fingers. Nothing much.  
  
That shut her up pretty quickly.  
  
So CeeCee, after getting pissed at me for defending her, befriended me. Me, Suze Simon, who was destined to only have one friend her whole life because she was such a standoffish moo-cow.  
  
Thank you, I'm honoured.  
  
But yeah. CeeCee is seriously beautiful. She has this sheet of perfect white hair, and a face that's a single shade creamier than snow. Not a zit to be seen. Damn girl. She's like, school editor, and is hell smart, aye. But, alas, she isn't very high in the social pyramid.  
  
And Adam, well, he's just a riot. He's pretty good looking, but nothing too special. He's the class clown, but is still looked down on as dog poop smudged on someone's shoe.  
  
He's not that bad.  
  
Oh yeah, CeeCee has this mega crush on him. Shhhh! Don't tell her I told you, she'd crucify me . . .  
  
'Suze?'  
  
I was standing in front of my locker by then. I turned around. There, CeeCee stood there, with her eyebrows raised. I blinked at her.  
  
'What?'  
  
She rolled her eyes. 'Don't pretend that I haven't been trying to get your attention for like, five minutes now. Jeez, wake up. What's gotten into you today, anyway?' she asked with a frown.  
  
I shrugged, and went to work on my combo. 'Nothing. Had a shitty sleep, that's all.'  
  
'Oh,' she said skeptically.  
  
After three attempts, I finally got my locker open.  
  
That was kind of when the siren sounded.  
  
'Crap!' I cursed, as CeeCee ran, and waved goodbye, telling me to move my ass. I filed through my locker, looking for my Lit book. This was so annoying!  
  
'Hey, bitch.'  
  
What?  
  
I turned my head, and there, beside me, was Heather.  
  
~*~  
  
I forgot, you don't know about Heather Chambers, do you? Yeah, she's the ghost of this total glam puss skank who used to have my locker. So, after she committed suicide because her boyfriend called it quits, she thought the whole thing was a little unfair, how she was stuck as a ghost. Well, "a little unfair" is probably the understatement of the year.  
  
She was passed pissed.  
  
'Take a hike, Heather, I'm busy,' I groaned, turning back to my search. That annoyed her.  
  
'I'll give you, "take a hike," Simon!' she shrieked, and instantly, all the lockers began to shake.  
  
'Shut up!' I hissed, and elbowed her to the floor.  
  
Oops.  
  
'You'll pay for that, Simon!' she screeched, her honey locks flying everywhere. She launched herself at me, smashed me into the locker.  
  
What the?!  
  
Uh, ow! My shoulder was SO going to bruise now! So, I socked her back, and got her in a head lock. Nothing major, but then she kicked back, and got my stomach. I hell on the ground, and she pounced, her hands around my neck, choking me . . .  
  
'Heather! Stop it!' commanded a deep voice.  
  
Huh? I looked wildly around, but I only saw the principal, Father Dominic, standing about thirty or so meters away. But . . .  
  
There was no one else around.  
  
On second glance, I saw that this priest dude was coming right at us. Huh?! Another mediator?!  
  
IS THE WORLD COMPLETELY SCREWY?  
  
As Heather was slugging me, and I was yanking her hair, Father Dom had reached us. He gently pulled Heather off of me.  
  
'Heather, you know better than to hurt anyone. It is your own fault that you are no longer living, and you have no right to make others that way,' said the priest in a reprimanding tone.  
  
Okay . . .this was somewhat odd.  
  
Heather glared daggers at me. 'I'll be back for you,' she promised venomously, and dematerialized with a shower of glittering blue light.  
  
'Whoa,' I said, 'What a day.'  
  
Then I turned to Father Dominic. He was pretty tall for an old guy. He six- feet stature was topped with a head of perfect silvery-white hair. His baby blue eyes were eyeing me cautiously.  
  
'You are a mediator, Susannah,' he said.  
  
How many people are going to tell me that?!  
  
'Uh, I kind of knew that,' I said in annoyance. I mean, come on. I just flogged a ghost, you couldn't expect me to find that perfectly fine, and not know what I was. I sighed, and straightened my hair.  
  
'Come with me to my office,' he advised, his eyes twinkling, 'Before Sister Ernestine sees all these dents in her lockers.'  
  
Who could disagree? I followed the old dude.  
  
~*~  
  
'Yo, Padre, why didn't you tell me you were a mediator too?' I asked as I sat coolly in the seat in front of him.  
  
He stared at me fleetingly. 'Well, I couldn't just ask you, in case you were not one of us,' he said, as if stating the obvious.  
  
Oh yeah . . .  
  
'But . . . You didn't have to get Heather to brain me just to see if I was one,' I said, disgruntled.  
  
He smiled. 'That was unintentional, I assure you, Susannah. Now, why don't you tell me about yourself? And about your history?'  
  
'I already told you about myself in the interview you gave me,' I said bluntly. I mean, autobiographies are so BORING.  
  
He looked up, as if praying for patience. 'No, Susannah. I meant about your, uh, "ghost history."'  
  
'Oooh,' I said. 'Gotcha. Well, what do you want to know, Padre?'  
  
He sniffed. 'Call me Father Dominic, I pray, Susannah. And tell me about your methods, of course, and some ghostly encounters you have made. Tell me about ghosts you have met before, and how you've dealt with them? How they have reacted to a mediator of your . . . your . . .'  
  
'Say it,' I said, wrinkling my nose at him. '"Femininity?"  
  
He looked awkward. 'No, youth,' he said quickly, fixing me with a baby blue gaze.  
  
So I told him every single detail I could recall, like, how I'd seen my first ghost at two years old . . .  
  
Everything, except, of course, Paul.  
  
Well, what do you expect? I mean, "Oh yeah, Padre? Another thing is that there's kind of a ghost living in my bedroom now. How coincidental is that, man? And, he's trying to tell me how powerful I could be if I'd just 'open my mind to him.' Oh, he thinks I'm hot, too."  
  
Yeah, that'd go down really well.  
  
Well, at least I'm not alone in this.  
  
Man, Heather was SO going down after this . . . she should have known not to mess with Susannah Simon.  
  
**************************************************************************** ***************  
  
A/N: Well? Tell me what you think. Please keep reviewing, this party's just getting started! And it's going to be nothing like the first book. Hold your breath, Jesse's on his way . . .  
  
Well, not for one or two chapters or something, but whatever! 


	3. Little Less Conversation

Yo, I'm here again. Love how quick I'm getting these up? Me too. I haven't written anything decent for ages, so it's kind of flooding out of me. Hell yeah! Here's another one. I haven't planned this chapter, so we'll see how it turns out. Don't flame me for anything you don't like. I love you all (in a total non gay way,) thanks for the reviews! But yeah, it's ten to 2am, so be nice . . .  
  
And also, if you find it strange that some things that Paul has done in the other "books" (NOT fan fictions) happen in this story, I've done that on purpose, to prove that Paul does some things the same whatever the situation, and that Suze's reactions are basically the same, because Paul still is (a bloody sleaze!) who he is. So don't tell me that it seems to predictable at the moment, because it's building up. But yeah, again, thanks for all of you being gorgeous people! (Just out of curiosity, are there many guys on this site? No, not what you think, I just want to know how many boys like story writing . . .)  
  
But yeah. (I say that a lot, don't I?) I'll shut up now . . . Enjoy.  
  
**************************************************************************** *********  
  
What a drag of a day. I mean, seriously. I now have this huge, ugly, purple, spotty bruise on my shoulder! How rude it that? I mean, at least I was, like, wearing a cardigan, so it was covered.  
  
But still. This Father Dom bloke is a MEDIATOR TOO!  
  
There is a God. What an appropriate person to have as a mediator. You know, a priest? Oh yeah, he wasn't too impressed with my methods for ghost busting, by the way.  
  
I thought back to earlier that day . . .  
  
'So, what are your methods for handling ghosts then, Susannah?' he asked, looking at me intently. He totally had one of those priestish, I'm-a-man-of- God-so-be-nice-to-me-and-don't-forget-to-pray voices. It was unnerving.  
  
'Well, I handle most of this spirits by . . . well, you saw,' I said, not thinking of a very nice way to say, "I rip into their chests, and show 'em their bloody, ghost-ass hearts before they agree to be reasonable and do it my way." (A/N: I kinda got that off a Simpsons episode. ^_^)  
  
His eyes went freakishly wide, so I could see the entire circle of his pale azure irises. 'You . . . you deal with ghosts like you dealt with Heather?!' he asked, scandalized.  
  
I shrugged. 'Long story short . . . yeah.'  
  
He bashed his fist on his desk, and stood up in outrage. 'Susannah! You cannot be using physical violence against these spirits! They are lost, and confused, and do not know why they are dead, half the time!'  
  
I blinked. 'It's okay, Padre, I only resort to head bashing when they piss me off.'  
  
Not the right thing to say.  
  
'Susannah,' he said, looking like he was about to cry in his frustration, 'These ghosts need to be treated with care and caution. You must talk to them, and listen to what they have to say, in order for them to pass on. If you fight them, then they will not trust you. How do you manage to help them pass on after you act aggressively towards them?'  
  
I smiled. 'I exorcise them, of course.'  
  
He stopped dead. I man, totally and completely stopped. What? You'd think I'd just said, "I'm romantically involved with Satan," by the way he was reacting. All colour drained from his wrinkly face. He blanched completely, and his eyes looked at me in sorrow.  
  
'Oh, Susannah,' he said heavily. 'You are not being seriously, I hope.'  
  
'What?' I asked defensively. 'What is wrong with exorcisms? If a ghost has you at gunpoint, you're not going to ask him for a cup of tea and a slice of carrot cake, are you? Sometimes, exorcisms are the only way, Padre.'  
  
Father Dom was still looking at me in that pitying way, as if I needed serious therapy or something. I stared back at him defiantly. He was asking for my methods? Well, he got 'em.  
  
He just wasn't exactly over the moon about them, though.  
  
'Susannah,' he said in mild anger, 'you can never exorcise a ghost that you are trying to help. Exorcisms are not made for that-' What?! Where had this guy been?! '-You must be rational, when dealing with ghosts, not-'  
  
'Yeah, whatever,' I said tiredly. Jeez, the guy was heavy with the "be polite" stuff, wasn't he?  
  
. . . Back to the present . . .  
  
Sleepy had driven Dopey, Doc and I back home. As soon as I walked in the door, Max, the family dog, ambushed me and knocked me over.  
  
'Crap!' I yelled as I went down. A wet, pink tongue was attacking my face. 'Ew! Get him off me!' I yelled.  
  
Dopey started laughing. 'Get her, boy!' he cheered, but Doc, being a little sweetie, kicked Max up the butt. He whimpered, and dashed away. Doc then went to fetch a face washer, but just after he gave it to me, Dopey seized him by the scruff of his shirt. I quickly wiped my face from all the slobber.  
  
'Sticking up for her, are you? Trying to earn brownie points? Everyone knows you have a crush on her. You are so weak, dude,' he said nastily, and thumped him one in the uh . . . the area of masculine sensitivity. Doc bent over, looking like he was about to cry, poor darl.  
  
That REALLY pissed me off.  
  
'Hey, Brad? Just because you don't have a dick, you don't have to go damaging those who do,' I snarled at him, and kicked him in the chest. He fell back, and with an almighty crash, he collided with the little jarrah table near the door. The table snapped, and all the little photo frames shattered on top of him.  
  
'Let that be a lesson to you,' I snapped. 'Now, piss off, unless you want to be next in line for a testicle retrieval operation.'  
  
Dopey looked up at me, wide eyed.  
  
'What ARE you?' he asked.  
  
I narrowed my eyes at him. 'A girl with attitude, now beat it.'  
  
He scrambled up, and ran to his room, slamming the door closed. I heard him turn up the stereo to maximum volume. It was this horrible rock music, that drove you insane, but I decided to ignore it. I extended a hand to Doc, and heaved him up.  
  
'You okay?' I asked.  
  
He gave me a weedy smile. 'Yeah. I'm sorry you had to witness that display of brotherly belligerence. It really wasn't necessary to come to my defense, but I am glad that you did. I'm grateful, Suze.'  
  
I blinked. 'Just a simple "thank you" would have been fine, you know.'  
  
He blushed, and then let go of my hand quickly. 'I have to do my homework . . .'  
  
'You do that.'  
  
He scurried up the stairs, and he too slammed his door, but not as forcefully as Dopey had. I grinned and shook my head. Nerdiness . . . It was kind of sweet.  
  
I also then retired to my bedroom. I sank onto my bed, lay on my back, and shut my eyes. I was exhausted. I mean, what a day . . .  
  
I thought about Paul again. I mean, was he for real last night? Oh, how I wanted to know the truth about why I was the way I am, but not from him. I knew something dire would happen, so it was wise to just ignore anything he said. And unfortunately, I probably wouldn't be able to exorcise him, 1. Because Father Dom would have my guts for garters, and 2. Because Paul was an ex-mediator, and would so see it coming, and would probably kill me.  
  
Gogh, my hair I was in my eyes. Isn't that, like, so annoying? I went to brush it away . . .  
  
But somebody else got there first.  
  
'Miss me, Susie?'  
  
I sat upright, and there, right beside me, was Paul.  
  
I mean it when I say right beside me. He was lying on my bed also, staring at me. He couldn't have been there for long, because I didn't see him when I lay down. I went to move off the bed, but his hand shot out and snatched up my wrist. He gave me a gentle tug, which pulled me back onto my bed. Then, he sat up and leant over me, each hand holding down my arms.  
  
I glared at him. 'Who would miss you?' I snapped.  
  
He grinned at me. 'Go on, admit it, you did. You've been thinking about me all day. Thinking about the proposal I made last night.'  
  
I had been, but I wasn't going to tell him that, was I?  
  
Of course not, stupid.  
  
'Let go of me,' I said. His shadowed eyes were burning into mine. I never thought it was possible for eyes so light to be so intensely and hopelessly dark. Again, a feeling of dismay consumed me. He was enchanting me again in his evil charm. I felt spellbound, but in a very, very, very bad way . . .  
  
The room was murky, which did nothing for the tense atmosphere. I looked anywhere but at his eyes, and I felt myself going all still. He let go of me, and just lay next to me. Again, I went to sit up, but his hand darted over my waist, and kept me down.  
  
'Don't move,' he said.  
  
I didn't answer . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** *******  
  
Paul's POV.  
  
I had seen what she had done to her stepbrother, Bradley. She calls him Dopey. It is very appropriate. He should never join the army. It would be incredibly stupid to combine a dangerous weapon and a low IQ.  
  
But anyhow.  
  
It amused me at how strong she could be, and yet how affectionate she'd been with her other stepbrother, David. I forget what she calls him.  
  
As she came into the room, I hid. I wanted to make sure she was vulnerable before I talked to her again, otherwise she wouldn't listen to me. I could sense that she was angry with me. She shouldn't have been, I was only trying to help.  
  
Honest?  
  
When she lay on the bed, I made my move. I materialized silently next to her.  
  
. . . My God, she was beautiful. Her eyes were closed gently, and the placid breeze from the open window was blowing her hair across her beautiful, perfect face. I brushed it from her eyes, and said, 'Miss me, Susie?'  
  
Those emeralds snapped open in alarm, and she went to sit up.  
  
Oh no you don't, I thought puckishly, and seized her hand, and pulled her back down next to me. She fell with a squeal, and I climbed over her, so she wouldn't get away.  
  
'Who would miss you?' she asked, looking daggers at me.  
  
I smiled knowingly. 'Go on, admit it, you did. You've been thinking about me all day. Thinking about the proposal I made last night.'  
  
I saw in her eyes that she had. They flashed with evanescent guilt. She had been thinking about it profoundly. Oh, very much so.  
  
Instead of answering, she said, 'let me go.' I examined her eyes again. Because I was dead, I couldn't see into her thoughts. She could see into mine, if she ever tried. Oh, I could teach her how to do so many amazing things, far beyond the imagination, if ONLY she'd give me the time of day!  
  
But I'd gladly settle for the time of night, if you catch my drift.  
  
I felt her go very rigid, as if she was fighting an urge to so something impulsive. I released her arms, but, silly girl, she wasn't a fast learner. She tried to get away from me, but I thwarted her escape, shooting an arm over her stomach, and rolling her over to face me. Her eyes shrank, and her mouth opened ever so slightly. Oh, what flawless lips . . .  
  
They'd be mine soon . . .  
  
'Don't move,' I grinned wryly at her, and her face went even more white. She didn't even speak. Slowly, I lifted my arm, and she didn't try to run. My grin widened.  
  
'Have you come to a decision, Susie?' I asked, playing with the fire.  
  
She pursed her lips. 'Don't call me that,' she said shortly. 'And yes, I have.'  
  
I brightened. 'Well?'  
  
'No,' she replied. 'And I'm not changing my mind. So drop it. Can I go now?'  
  
I raised my eyebrows. 'Why on earth would I let you go when you are willing to do anything I say? I could have some real fun, you know.'  
  
She choked on her response, but thought better of it, and didn't answer. Instead, she just turned away, and curled up. I decided it was time to mess with her mind again . . .  
  
'Come on, Suze,' I whispered to her turned back. I put my hand on her hip, and she flinched as if I'd just gave her a static shock. 'You know that you can't fight this urge forever. You are dying to know the answers, and what you are really capable of. Don't even bother denying it. You'd do anything to know, you're just playing hard to get . . .'  
  
I slid my hand up her body, resting just below her breast, and I felt her tremble. I could feel her slowly surrendering, giving into me. As I knew she would. But she'd taken her sweet time. She was strong willed, I'd give her that.  
  
Just not strong enough . . .  
  
'Well?' I said seductively, and I half closed my eyes smoothly.  
  
That was when she slapped my hand, and jumped of the bed. She stood up, and backed away. I saw that she was close to tears.  
  
'Stop it!' she whispered urgently, 'Just stop it, Paul!'  
  
I sat up, staring at her. I was so close, so close to winning this game . . .  
  
'Suze! Dinner!'  
  
She looked at me, wide-eyed, and ran out of the room.  
  
DAMN!  
  
I was so close! I'd almost gotten her to yield, and then that damn stepfather of hers had to go and spoil it!  
  
ARGH!  
  
In aggravation, I caused her mirror to shatter. They fell on the paneled floor with a tinkling sound. I stared at the shards of glass.  
  
I had no longer had a reflection . . .  
  
Because of De Silva . . .  
  
Oh, he was going to pay dearly for murdering me. Me, Paul Slater, the most powerful shifter of all -  
  
I stopped suddenly. I had just had an idea . . .  
  
I could use Suze to get back at him! I stood up, and picked up a particularly jagged piece of broken glass. For later . . .  
  
I quickly thought up a plan. Oh, this would be good. This would be perfect!  
  
And I could keep Suze for myself after!  
  
Oh, what a beautiful day.  
  
Now I just needed a beautiful night. I laughed. Suze was right, I was a sleazy bastard.  
  
**************************************************************************** ******  
  
Suze's POV  
  
After dinner, I tentatively went back into my room. I peaked around the door to check that Paul wasn't there. He wasn't.  
  
I snuck in, and jumped in the shower. Yeah, in my bikini. What? I wasn't taking any chances. I mean, that was a whole TEN MINUTES in the nuddy! Nude is rude!  
  
After showering, I quickly slipped into some boxers and a singlet top, and then put my dressing gown on. Mum had got it for me. It was kind of like an open negligee. At least it wasn't all I was wearing, or Paul would go gaga.  
  
Ew . . .  
  
After I was well dressed and all, I went over to my desk, and pulled out all my homework. I spread it across the desktop, chewing my pen.  
  
'Okay . . .' I said to myself, 'get this essay done, Suze, and that maths sheet, and you're fine for bed.' I mean, I was dead tired. But I had to get this stupid essay thing done. Can you believe it? It was an essay on the second Harry Potter, and their themes? We had to read it. I mean, how stupid is that? I'd already read them all once, which was quite enough for me.  
  
So what if I wasn't an avid little bookworm?  
  
I put my pen to paper, and began. Okay, an intro? Uh . . .  
  
"The themes of novel are easier to understand when we have reasons to want to understand them and get involved in them. In the novel, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, by J. K. Rowling, the themes of the story are very obvious through her carefully crafted plot. We understand the principal themes of the novel, like friendship, family, racism, betrayal, and growing up, because she has made us side with/feel about specific characters. I will explain how she has done this, and consequently, how it affects my understanding of a few of these themes . . ." I wrote, and then paused. I sighed, and ran my hand through my hair. That wasn't such a bad introduction, if I do say so myself.  
  
'Susie . . .'  
  
I closed my eyes in irritation, but pressed on with my essay. Mr Scali wouldn't accept the excuse that my essay wasn't finished because of a charming, hot ghost of the male persuasion was trying to tempt me to be evil. Oh, that would go down FINE.  
  
'Nah Suze, seriously. Let's put everything behind us and be friends.'  
  
I threw down my pen.  
  
'You wanna be friends, Paul? Well, they say absence makes the heart grow fonder, so piss off, I'm trying to learn here!' To emphasize my displeasure, I hurled a dirty sock at him. And to my amusement, it hit him in the face.  
  
He wrinkled his nose, and stopped for a moment. I stared at him. He looked annoyed. I could understand, it was a very foul sock. You now, sweaty, sport's socks? Then suddenly, with the mind/controlling thing, he made it zoom back at me with his eyes. It wrapped itself around my hair like a hair tie. I had to laugh; it was pretty clever.  
  
He grinned at me, and then went to sit on my bed. The sock fell to the floor, forsaken . . .  
  
'Okay, I shall see if I can make a start to this awkward conversation. How was your day, Susie?'  
  
The smile died from my face. 'Don't call me that!' I hissed.  
  
His eyes flashed evilly. 'Oh, I think I will,' he said smugly. 'Susie . . .'  
  
I simply glared at him, and turned back to my essay. "Friendship, in my opinion, is the foremost theme of the novel. Rowling has portrayed-'  
  
'Oh, come on, don't be a party pooper!' he said in a whiny voice. I sighed, and turned back to him, yawning.  
  
'Okay, well, fine. I had a fab day, apart from the fact that I managed to acquire a large and rather hideous looking bruise on my shoulder as a result of mediation. You see, I met a girl named Heather on my first day, and she's not very nice to me. Oh yeah, she's a ghost,' I added as an after thought.  
  
He blinked.  
  
'You might wanna go slower next time,' he advised, nodding deliberately.  
  
Then he cracked up.  
  
I stared at him in mystification. Why was he being so nice? What was he up to? This was really weird . . .  
  
When he shut up, I repeated myself to him, at a pace that anyone could understand.  
  
'Okay,' he smirked, 'So you met a bitchy ghost. What is she like? Is she one of those pretty girls, or is she a dork?'  
  
'She's pretty slutty, actually,' I said in disgust. Was is just me, or did his eyes twinkle for a second?  
  
'Go on,' he drawled.  
  
'Oh, blond, blue eyed, great bod, full tan, hip dresser . . . hey! Your type of girl,' I said sarcastically. And ah, revenge of the sock! Instead, this time he tried to manually stuff it in my mouth. I ended up laughing hysterically. When I realized that he wasn't about to stop, I leapt from the chair, and fled across the room. He chased me good-naturedly, and finally, he dived at me, and pushed me down against my bed, lying on top of me. He laughed a deep, manly laugh. It vibrated through his body. But I wasn't scared; this was a game. I laughed, but he was kind of, you know, winding me?  
  
But then, instead of suffocating me with any socks, he glided his thumb down the side of my face, gazing at me fixedly. I blinked several times in succession. What happened to playing with my reeking footwear?  
  
'Paul -' I began, but he placed a finger on my lips, and shushed me quietly. My heart rate began to gradually increase, until it was beating in an unruly rhythm.  
  
And then, he lowered his head . . .  
  
. . . And kissed me.  
  
Paul's POV.  
  
I chased her with the sock. Now, this was fun. It wasn't my kind of fun, but I was enjoying this game all the same. Then, I saw my chance to strike. I leapt at her, and pushed bed down against the bed, laughing.  
  
But once she was there beneath me, socks seemed so stupid.  
  
Of course they were.  
  
Who'd want to stuff a dirty sock in that sacred mouth?  
  
I just stared at her for a second, as my head hammered. Why did she have to be this beautiful? This smart? This independent? Why couldn't I just treat her like I treated all the other girls that used to flock around me in my life?  
  
When I was alive . . .  
  
She wasn't some slut that I could get pleasure from for ten minutes. It was like . . . I dunno, there was something inside me that made me want to respect her. That's very freaky for me, I don't usually feel like that. But at the same time, she had this body that drove me CRAAAAAAAAZY!  
  
Oh, she was so pure, so chaste, and so angelic . . .  
  
I wanted her.  
  
And we all know that Paul Slater always gets what he wants . . .  
  
'Paul-' she said awkwardly, but I silenced her. She looked at me, slightly alarmed at what I was doing. I could see colour coming to her cheeks. She was blushing. I'd have to hurry, before embarrassment brought her to her senses.  
  
So, I bowed my head, and gently kissed her.  
  
Oh God, I was holding back. I was holding back more than I've ever held back in my life (and death . . .). I wanted more than anything to just rip her nightgown off, and . . . (yeah, you know, I won't say that "f" word) but I held myself.  
  
But if I kept smothering this pulsating desire, I was going to EXPLODE.  
  
She was kissing me back, and she had moved her hands so that they were around my neck. Her eyes were closed softly. She was liking this. I could tell by the way that she was smiling lightly against my lips. Shit, she was a great kisser . . . Oooh, damn, this felt good. Maybe I could try and take it up a notch . . .  
  
I slid my hand behind her back, and pressed her against me. Oops, bad move . . . She stopped kissing me, and turned her head away. But I kept going. Maybe I could capture her again.  
  
'Paul,' she said, frowning heavily from beneath me, 'This has got to stop.'  
  
'Says who? 'I asked breathlessly, using my hand to turn her face back to me. She looked at me for a second, and I saw that terror in her eyes again. It was okay. Terror works wonders for me. Oh, this was not fair! I was in limbo, waiting for her to respond, but she was too far on her guilt trip.  
  
'Me,' she said firmly, and tried to push me off. Tried, I say. I wouldn't let her. I wasn't going to let go of this opportunity that easily. So what if she wasn't some common skank? I'd waited too long . . . I mean, how many times to you get this chance? How often do you catch the stunningly attractive (yet very-scary-when-she-was-angry) girl who moved into your bedroom (and was also able to see you, hear you, and most essentially, make- out with you,) off guard? It was a once in a lifetime thing. Well, twice in a lifetime, knowing the affect I had on women . . .  
  
But she really wanted me off. I kept kissing, but it wasn't working. She contorted her face, and forcefully pushed up. I fell off of her. It was astounding, her strength. Oh, I'd struck gold! And she was all for me. . .  
  
MINE!  
  
**************************************************************************** ********  
  
Suze's POV.  
  
I blushed furiously, and staggered back over to my little computer chair. Why did I feel so numb all of a sudden? Oh, what had I done?! Why had Paul done that! He'd ruined everything, and anything we might have had!  
  
I went back to my essay, and began writing furiously, but I kept making stupid mistakes like, "We have the first love triangle . . . uh, I mean, friendship triangle, featuring Harry, Ron, and Hermione. We have been influenced to respect all of these characters because of their moral characteristics, e.g. lust . . . Shit! I mean, loyalty!"  
  
I was so going to get an F . . .  
  
Just hopefully not Paul's type of "F", if you catch my drift . . .  
  
Oh, and speak of the devil, (literally, I'd wager) Paul grabbed my shoulder, and spun me around.  
  
I looked up at him in alarm. Oh, I was scared more of him now than I had ever been . . .  
  
My teeth were chattering, and my eyes were drooping from drowsiness, but I had to get my essay and my algebra done, and then I could go to sleep.  
  
But Paul had other ideas on his mind than sleep . . . You could totally tell from that smile he was giving me.  
  
'Suze, come back. You liked that. I know you did. There's plenty more where that came from, I can assure you.'  
  
I felt very strange. People don't usually talk like that to me. They really don't. I tried to roll my eyes like it was nothing, but it wasn't very convincing. He tenderly picked up my hand, and tried to drag me into him, but I tugged it back, and continued with the bloody essay. It was really hard, when, all the while, he was tickling my back sexily, or whispering these really disgusting things suggestively in my ear, like, 'Let's play army guys. You lie down, and I can blow the hell out of you.'  
  
And that was one of the nicer ones.  
  
(A/N: Someone said that to me once . . . Ew . . . o.O)  
  
I paid no attention to it most of the time, but some things were too hard to ignore. Half of me wanted to just do exactly what he was telling me to do, but the rest of me - the stronger half - made me remember that my dignity and most importantly, my virtue was in jeopardy. No, I kept writing that stinking essay.  
  
I finished the very last paragraph. "It is true that Rowling encourages the readers to side with characters to accentuate the themes of the novel and make them easy to understand. I've talked about the themes of friendship, betrayal, family, and growing up, to explain this. My understanding of these human issues would have been very poor if Rowling's characters were weakly structured, but she did a very good job. Without these characters, and her influences on whom I should take sides with, I wouldn't have recognized these themes as easily as I did . . . "  
  
Blah, blah, and blah . . .  
  
By that time, I could barely keep my eyes open. My vision was fuzzy, and my mind was scattered, but I had . . . to . . . keep . . . going . . .  
  
I pulled out the algebraic problems as Paul was still whispering things to me, still running his fingers up and down my arms, and making me feel deadened all over, but my head hit the paper before I could even find the very first value of 'x' . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** **  
  
Paul's POV  
  
She'd fallen asleep. My God, was I that boring? No, she had been tired before. I looked at her, leaning against the paper, her hair fluttering with each breath. Her face was so rested, so immaculate. This, of course, could have the ultimate chance to treat myself, but by the way she'd looked at me before, like she'd rather die at the hands of Jesse De Silva also than let me touch her the way I wanted to, well, I wasn't feeling very motivated. So, instead, I did the righteous thing, yeah, yeah, and carried her to her bed, tucking her in and everything. Oh, aren't I a gentleman?  
  
Ugh, get a life . . .  
  
Then, I wandered over to her homework sheet. Algebra? Oh, wasn't little Susie lucky that Mr Slater happened to be a mastermind at all things to do with maths? And this stuff was pissy. Carefully holding the pen, dully concentrating on it so it wouldn't merge through my fingers, I filled in all the answers in about five minutes. And that was roughly sixty questions.  
  
Who's a genius?  
  
Paul, of course.  
  
I smirked, and drew a little cartoon on the back of her maths page. It wasn't a very G rated picture, either. What? I couldn't just do her homework, and let her get away with it, could I? Stop looking at me like that, you have no idea how my twisted, perverted mind works.  
  
Oh, and aren't I proud of it . . .  
  
I packed away her papers for her, and dematerialized with a very smug look.  
  
Just you wait, Susie.  
  
You'll fall for me soon.  
  
I'll be there to catch you.  
  
And I'll hold you prisoner,  
  
Forever . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ****  
  
Whoa, that was a LONG chapter. Well, what do you think? Okay, I'm not sure, but I think JESSE'S coming in the next chapter. We'll see where the river of my outlandish imagination takes us . . . Can we make it twenty (20) reviews, guys? Do it for Jesse . . .  
  
Love Princess Roxanne.  
  
PS. That was a real essay I did for my Yr. 8 teacher, hehehe.  
  
PPS. Mr Scali and Miss Phillips are real people. (Real nice people too, but still!) Keep them off this sight at all costs!  
  
~*~ Hang in there, and REVIEW NOW!!!~*~  
  
~*~ ...I've had this chapter ready for ages. ~*~ 


	4. Murderer In Our Midst

This chapter isn't a personal as all of the other ones. But the next one is going to be DREAMY! (Not that I know for sure, I haven't written it, only planned in.)  
  
YOU ROCK! You know that, right, keep reviewing, and I'll keep updating.  
  
**************************************************************************** *****  
  
Suze's POV.  
  
Oooh, I was in trouble! I hadn't gotten my homework finished last night. I woke up with a start at six o'clock, and ran to my desk. Okay, algebra, algebra. Shouldn't be too difficult, right?  
  
Er, it would be easier if I could find my papers . . .  
  
Nothing was on my desk.  
  
Then, I turned to my bag, and realized that it had all like, been packed in neatly. Huh? I thought I fell asleep? Oh well, maybe Andy came in and put it away for me. He sometimes did that.  
  
I found my maths sheet without trouble. But . . .  
  
What the hell?  
  
All the answers were smartly filled in, in handwriting that I didn't recognize. I stared. Andy wouldn't have done THAT. And then I remembered . . . hadn't I fallen asleep on the desk, just as I got the sheet out?  
  
How did I get to my bed?  
  
WHAT WAS GOING ON HERE?!  
  
Shaking my head, I slipped all the papers back into my file. Oh well, at least I didn't have to do maths, right? I decided to go have a long, hot shower. They cure everything. You can just stand under the steaming hot water as it falls on your body, and wash away all your thoughts as well as all your grime.  
  
But yeah.  
  
And of course I like, wore my bikini. I was even more sure of that now, after Paul's latest er . . . episode. I was seriously going to have to do something about that guy. But what? I couldn't tell Father Dom about him, because I don't know if he'd survive, after the whole exorcism thing. But hey, I couldn't just let things go on the way they were.  
  
And I hated being called Susie! RAH!  
  
After a shower that was sure to send Carmel into a drought, I dragged myself out, and went back to bed for ten minutes, until I heard my mum calling for me to get up. I jumped into some comfy black slacks that flared at the bottom, and put on this low cut, red off-the-shoulder top. Then, I put this totally cute red flower in my hair.  
  
Nice . . .  
  
Time to make someone cry, Suze.  
  
~*~  
  
How boring . . .  
  
I was sitting in a desk next to CeeCee in Calculus. She was staring dreamily at Adam, who was trying to flick a spitball at Mr Osbourne, the teacher. Bad idea. Mrs Osbourne was this middle-aged, scrawny guy, who could not take a joke if it was handed to him with a billion-dollar check. So it wasn't the brightest idea Adam's had, but who was I to tell him to stop?  
  
The class was almost over. It was recess next.  
  
'Now, I'm going to collect your homework sheets, people,' he sniffed, his phlegm rattling in his throat. He was one of those guys who had a killer moustache that he'd never shave off. He was starting to bald, too. It wasn't a good look. Everyone felt weird around him, because . . . well, no offense, but the guy was a huge freak of nature with no prospect for a future except to teach some cocky-ass kids about the values of x and y. I mean, what kind of a life is that?  
  
'I'm calling you up to make sure that you've done it,' he said snottily, wiping his bulbous nose with his sleeve. I made a revolted face at CeeCee, who grinned. 'Lunch time detentions for those miss-fortunate mutants who were foolish enough to forget their algebra.'  
  
'Brad Ackerman.'  
  
Dopey sauntered up smugly. In his fist, he held his sheet. I knew for a fact that the handwriting on his page belonged to Doc. Oh, I would get him back later for it, the pig . . .  
  
The list went on. Mr Osbourne called Becky Seymour up just before me, who informed him that her dog really HAD eaten her homework, and she had a note to prove it, but Mr Osbourne smirked at her, and issued her with a detention slip.  
  
'Susannah Simon,' he leered at me.  
  
I nervously got up. Oh, who ever had filled in my answers had better have gotten them right, or Mr Osbourne would give me detention anyway.  
  
'Well, this is a pleasant surprise,' he smiled toothily, his moustache twitching in mirth, 'Susannah has finished her homework, class. I think that this deserves applause.  
  
Obligingly, everyone clapped, and Dopey guffawed with all his jock friends. I glared at him, and was about to go sit down, when something caught my eye.  
  
Oh. My. God.  
  
Instantly, I snatched the algebraic sheet off him, horrified. Only now, I had seen what was on the back. Oh my God, oh my freakin' GOD!  
  
EW!!!  
  
On there was a picture of . . . well, I won't even say, suffice it to say that it was definitely R rated, and sexually orientated. I mean, it was a good drawing, but YUCK! Then, there was a message.  
  
"YOU KNOW YOU WANT ME."  
  
I was appalled. Now I knew who'd done my homework.  
  
Paul.  
  
Of course.  
  
I couldn't believe that I'd been so close to handing this in!  
  
'Miss Simon?'  
  
Mr Osbourne was looking at me strangely. 'Miss Simon, I never knew that applause had that affect on you. Please submit your homework. NOW.'  
  
I must have looked seriously weird, because he was like, 'Are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost.'  
  
Ha . . . you have no idea, pal . . .  
  
'I - I - I'm fine,' I choked, and hid the paper behind my back, folding it.  
  
'Your homework then?' he said, raising an eyebrow.  
  
I felt like I was about to hyperventilate.  
  
'You know?' I said squeakily, 'I think that I left it on my desk at hoe. I mean home! How funny is that?!' I began laughing breathlessly.  
  
His face contorted slightly. 'Miss Simon, I just saw the sheet. It was filled in, so I don't know why you are refusing to -'  
  
That was when it was snatched out of my hand from behind.  
  
'Here, Mr O,' Dopey said triumphantly, handing it to him. I tried to swipe it out of his hand, but no go. Dopey held me back as my teacher went to unfold the forbidden page.  
  
'Don't open it!' I screamed. Everyone was staring at me like I was a psycho freak.  
  
My heart stopped beating, as I watched how he reacted. First his eyes bulged . . . Then, he blinked a number of times in sequence, raising his eyebrows. Then, the dude like, totally blushed. Oh, how embarrassing . . . And then he half smiled for a second!  
  
HOLY CRAP!  
  
And after long last, the anger came.  
  
'Miss Simon!' he said in outrage, stuffing the paper into his pocket. I was shaking my head. I felt very numb all of a sudden . . .  
  
'I swear, man, I SO didn't draw that!' I said insistently.  
  
His eyes were still bugging out of their sockets. 'Take this to the headmaster's office, and explain to him the meaning of this!'  
  
'What was on it?' chorused the class.  
  
'Shut your pie holes!' Mr Osbourne roared at them, and they all fell quiet.  
  
'B-But-'  
  
'No buts. Get out of my class, Susannah. This is a disgrace.' He handed me the crumpled sheet of paper. Dopey tried to grab it off of me, but I'm stronger than the bloke, okay? Mr Osbourne gave him a lunch time detention, which lightened the mood a little.  
  
But what would I say to Father Dominic?  
  
Merciful Zeus, did that just happen?  
  
(A/N: Giles . . . ^_^)  
  
Oh yes. Why did I feel so deadened?  
  
Shock. It was shock. Trust me, when I recovered myself, I was going to be FURIOUS. Just . . . just gimme five minutes.  
  
The receptionist in Father Dom's office looked at me witheringly. Above her head was a large wooden crucifix. Adam had told me on my first day that it was known to weep blood if a virgin ever graduated from the mission. Nice . . . On the reception counter was a vase of dead tulips. How, uh, refreshing. I stared at them for a moment, and then turned to the woman who was sitting behind them.  
  
'In trouble again, are we, Miss Simon?' she asked reprovingly.  
  
I rolled my eyes. 'Yeah, something like that. Father Dom 'round?'  
  
'Yes. Go in now,' she said dryly.  
  
I knew my way around here by now. I walked around the desk, and into the old dude's headquarters.  
  
'Yo, Padre, knock knock,' I said.  
  
Father Dom was reading the bible. How ironic. I sat down in front of him.  
  
'Won't be a moment,' he said, waving his hand at me carelessly.  
  
'Oh, take your time,' I said airily, while quietly shredding Paul's drawing. I mean, who wanted to look at that? Father Dom certainly didn't. He's a good boy, and would be disgusted by it. I did, however, keep the message so I could prove my story.  
  
I couldn't believe what had happened. Oh, Paul was SO GOING TO DIE AFTER THIS!!  
  
AGAIN!!!!!!!  
  
I mean, that picture had been nauseating. You don't want to know what it had featured, believe me. And Osbourne had seen it!  
  
Double EW! Paul was going down in a big way . . . I would exorcise his nuts to infinity and beyond, and see how cocky he was without them! Grrrrr!  
  
Hehehe . . .cocky. I doubt he would be very cocky at all . . .  
  
Er, I believe it had been five minutes, uh huh.  
  
Finally, he snapped the bible shut, and looked at me. 'What brings you here, Susannah? Have any ghost problems?'  
  
I blinked, and calmed down a little. 'Now you mention it, Padre, yeah. In fact, a particular ghost earned me a detention today. You think you can squeeze me out of it somehow?'  
  
He smiled. 'Well, tell me what happened first, Susannah, and then we shall see.'  
  
'Okay,' I took a deep breath, and launched into my story. 'Well, I'm dealing with this . . . er, ghost at the moment. He's not dangerous, so I don't need any help from you, really I don't, and we certainly haven't been making out, so don't think that we have, because we really haven't, I promise, but today, he seems to have drawn a picture on my homework, and, and, I -'  
  
'Susannah!' Father Dom practically shouted, holding up his hands, 'Stop babbling! Please, speak clearly? And slowly. I didn't catch a single WORD of that!'  
  
Oh, God. I always talked fast when I was nervous. I went very slowly this, time, and managed to keep a cool head. 'A ghost drew a very rude picture on my homework, but I'm handling it. I had no idea that he did it, and I didn't draw it, I swear, Father,' I said slowly, looking him straight in the eye. Oh, this ghost also happens to live in my bedroom, and last night, we shared a very intense kiss that almost resulted in hot and heavy activity, but I have a lot of discipline, Father Dom. So much discipline that I didn't tell you any of that.  
  
Like he needed to know.  
  
He looked at me hard. 'Show me this picture, Susannah.'  
  
I coughed. 'Er . . . you don't want to see it. I kind of ripped it up, because it was seriously grotty, man, and you know, you being a priest . . . but yeah, I saved this bit.' I passed him the slip of paper.  
  
' "You know you want me",' he read out, his mouth crooked on one side. 'What does it mean? Susannah, how young is this ghost?'  
  
CRAP! Oh, I didn't realize that this was going to happen! I shouldn't have showed him the message, of course he was going to ask questions!  
  
'Uh . . . ' Oh joy, I was blushing.  
  
'Susannah,' he warned, 'What aren't you telling me?'  
  
My eyes went wide, but then I smiled. 'Nothing. This ghost is just weird. Nothing to worry about. I just don't want to get a detention because God chose to grace me with this precious gift.'  
  
I knew that would get to him . . .  
  
He leant his chin in his palm, and frowned. 'Okay,' he said tiredly, 'I'll sort it out. You're a lot more trouble than you're worth, you know?'  
  
I beamed sarcastically. 'You've made my day, Padre. I mean, really.'  
  
I got up to go, when the receptionist came in.  
  
'Father Dominic? Are you free?' she asked, casting a look of slight contempt at me. What a bitch . . .  
  
Father Dom nodded. 'Yes, Susannah has finished here,' he said in a tone of conclusiveness.  
  
The receptionist turned her head to look back. 'Oh yes, because those new students, the boy and the three girls, are here with their parents.'  
  
'The De Silvas?' Father Dominic said. 'Why, send them on in.'  
  
She nodded and left. Something stirred in my memory . . .  
  
De Silva . . .  
  
Oh my God!  
  
'Padre, what's the guy's name?' I asked quickly.  
  
'Why . . . Jesse, I think,' he knit his eyebrows.  
  
I blanched.  
  
'Susannah? Are you quite all right?' he asked, concerned. I went to speak, but at that moment, there was a knock on the door.  
  
'I got to go!' I squealed, and was out of that office in a split second, not looking anywhere. Especially not at this Jesse De Silva person, or his stinking parents.  
  
We had a murderer in our midst . . .  
  
~*~  
  
I was sitting with CeeCee and Adam at lunch.  
  
'Guys, I'm just warning you. There's this guy that's coming to the school, called Jesse De Silva. Steer clear of him, okay?' I said nervously.  
  
'Why?' Adam said through a mouthful of spaghetti, 'He a jock?'  
  
'No, worse,' I said.  
  
'No, not another Adam!' CeeCee clapping her hands to her mouth mockingly. Adam made a face, his cheeks still puffing out with food.  
  
'No, he's a murderer,' I said. They stared at me.  
  
'Jesus, she's going all paranoid on us,' CeeCee said to Adam, who nodded and finally swallowed.  
  
'I'm not! He killed a guy called -' I stopped. I didn't want to tell them too much, or they'd get suspicious. Especially CeeCee.  
  
But unfortunately, Kelly Prescott was standing just across from me.  
  
'What did you say, Suze?' she asked, arching an thin blond eyebrow that had been plucked to perfection.  
  
'Nothing,' I said quickly.  
  
'No, you said that the new guy, Jesse de Silva, is a murderer. Is that it?' she asked. Jeez, for someone who didn't listen to a word the teachers said in class, she had a pretty good memory. That must come with memorizing the names of all the fashion stores at the local Carmel Mall. She walked back over to her skank friends. Then, she began to whisper energetically to them. Oh, great. I didn't want to be the butt of any nasty rumours.  
  
Oh well, he deserved it anyway.  
  
I turned back to CeeCee and Adam. They were both arguing about CeeCee's latest column in the school newsletter, that lip-gloss should be banned. Oh course it shouldn't. Adam was right to be arguing with her. But CeeCee was way into it.  
  
'It's distracting, to be trying to listen to a teacher, and having all the Kelly Prescotts of the class smudging dollops of oily, gross chemicals onto their lips!' she said furiously, defending her story to the death.  
  
'Yeah, but have you seen how nice and shiny lip-gloss is, Webb? You should try wearing some.'  
  
CeeCee momentarily blushed, but recovered promptly. 'Of course not. That would be going against my argument. But you'd know, you probably have played tongue tennis with someone who wears some, and you liked the taste, or have even worn some a couple of times!'  
  
Adam swelled up jokily. 'You calling me a fag, Miss Webb?'  
  
'Maybe I am,' she replied, grinning slyly.  
  
'Want to step outside? I could take you any day!' he shouted at her, and blew her a raspberry.  
  
'Real mature,' I commented, and he winked at me.  
  
'I couldn't take YOU, Suze. You're too scary,' he said, and began to shake really heavily. I giggled. But he was going overboard, you know, with the trembling, until he ended it with a dramatic flop on the table, accidentally sending a plate of spaghetti flying at CeeCee.  
  
It fell on her shiny white hair, and everyone in the area stopped, stared, and laughed. I couldn't help but smile, but Adam was cracking up totally. He fell of the bench, in stitches.  
  
'Oh, shut up, Adam,' I said, and ditched my banana at him. It mashed into his face, and he stared at me in outrage. By now, everyone was crowding around. CeeCee was still frozen, a look of horror plastered on her face.  
  
'What did I ever do to you, Simon?' he demanded, approaching me with a plate of ice cream.  
  
'You wouldn't dare,' I goaded.  
  
Yes he would. He proved that by throwing a handful at my face. It landed on my off-the-shoulder top! I glared at him, but then cracked up laughing.  
  
'Simon got creamed!' some stupid jock yelled, and then, another roared, 'FOOD FIGHT!'  
  
It was pandemonium in seconds. I quickly ran to escape the mess. I mean, I already had a few spots on my top, I didn't want to, you know, get drenched. So, I ducked into the girl's loo, wiped my face clean, thanking God none was in my hair, and I scrubbed my top clean. It just looked like it had a watermark now, and didn't look noticeable at all.  
  
What luck!  
  
I began applying a little eyeliner, because I'd just rubbed it all off, when I heard a voice.  
  
'Ah . . . I've been looking for you, Simon.'  
  
I looked boredly in the mirror, and saw Heather standing there, seething.  
  
'Wait a minute, hon,' I said, 'Almost finished . . . '  
  
'Wait a minute, my ass!' she screamed, and conveniently smashed one of the toilet seats. Jeez, would she just wait?!  
  
Ah, done. I carefully pocketed the eye pencil, and turned to her. 'Okay, what do you want?'  
  
'What do you think I want?!' she shrieked.  
  
'A manicure?' I guessed blindly.  
  
Again, she screamed, and exploded another toilet seat. I rolled my eyes. 'Please, none of the female population in the school will be able to defecate or urinate now. I hope you're really happy with your achievements, because I'm not exactly quivering in my stylish, expensive and luxurious boots, am I?'  
  
And just for a little bit of difference, she screamed again, causing one of the cubicles to come of its hinges. I yawned, and went to walk out . . .  
  
That was until she threw a sink at my head.  
  
Okay, Suze is officially miffed.  
  
'Hey, watch the merchandise!' I snapped, and dived at her, wrestling her to the ground. But, (now this was insulting,) she managed to throw me off! With her mind, of course. I smashed against the hard, cold wall, bashing the bruise that she'd generously granted me yesterday. I rebounded, grabbed her by the shoulders, and pushed her into the nearest cubicle. She fell with a splash into one of the toilets, and I saw, to my glee, that it was one that hadn't been flushed properly. I walked out of the toilet block, grinning. It had been pretty funny, seeing these little brown goopy bits dripping off of her. I know, gross, but you had to be there.  
  
Jeez . . . I was SO going to train longer and harder with my punching bag every night . . . I was losing my touch.  
  
I looked around the locker room. It was like, totally deserted. Oh, it sounded like the food fight was still raging on. I was still praising God that I had escaped, reasonably unscathed.  
  
'Eeek!'  
  
Not one of my nicer noises, no. It seemed that Heather had thrown herself at me from behind, wrapping her arms around my neck. Uh, OW?  
  
She pulled me back, and I fell on top of her.  
  
'You freaking bitch!' she screeched in my ear, damaging my eardrums for life, I was certain. Only, she wasn't as polite as that . . .  
  
Hardly.  
  
Okay, I was kind of finding it hard to breathe here? I tried elbowing her, but it I couldn't reach her properly. Then, I tried bashing her head on the ground. That worked for a second. She let go of me briefly. I scrambled up, ready to whip her butt, but I wasn't ready for when she blasted at me, and bashed my head against the wall, face first.  
  
Ow . . .  
  
My vision swam.  
  
While I was still dizzy, she seized my hand, and spun me into the lockers. I tried to punch her in the stomach, but it wasn't working . . .  
  
Not good . . .  
  
Then, just as she was about to crack my neck, or something, this deep, smooth, totally sexy Spanish voice rang out in the locker hall.  
  
'Hey! Leave her alone!'  
  
I looked blearily, and . . .  
  
Oh. My. God. What a sight for sore eyes . . .  
  
And trust me, my eyes were really sore by then.  
  
This total hunk was standing in the hall, looking wildly at Heather and me. Then, he came and pulled her off of me. Heather, with a snort of fury, dematerialized.  
  
'Nombres di Dios, she's a bitch,' he commented, and then turned back to me. 'Are you okay?'  
  
'Does it look like I'm okay?' I asked quietly.  
  
'What'd you say?'  
  
'Uh . . . nothing . . . '  
  
Delicately, he helped me up. I almost collapsed again, but he caught me. 'Easy . . . Here, put your weight on me . . . That's right.'  
  
I turned and looked at him. My God, he was hot. His eyes, they were so beautiful! Like a stormy ocean. They were dark brown, but looked almost blue. And they were those totally adorable Latino puppy eyes, you know?  
  
His hair was like, perfect. It was kind of wavy, and curled neatly to the back of his head. It was thick and black, and smelt really, really good. I know, because he was holding me pretty closely at the moment . . .  
  
So close, in fact, that I could feel that he had a very firm, very defined six pack, beneath that black silk tee he was wearing.  
  
As said on Charlie's Angels . . . Oooh Barracuda!  
  
I still felt way dizzy. He led me over to a chair that was vacantly sitting outside a classroom, and sat me down. 'Thanks,' I winced, holding my head. It was wet . . .  
  
'You're bleeding,' he said, alarmed, and quickly buried his hand in his pocket, extracting . . .  
  
'A hanky?' I asked, smiling in spite of myself.  
  
He shrugged. I looked at it.  
  
'MDS? Who's that?' I asked curiously, as he held it to my forehead.  
  
'My mother. Margarita De Silva,' he said, coughing. God, he was hot . . .  
  
Whoa, STOP THE TRAFFIC!  
  
'Wait! . . . Your last name's De Silva?' I gasped, my heart clenching in panic.  
  
'Yeah,' he said, looking politely bewildered. 'So?'  
  
I choked, and stood up quickly, getting ready to run. 'I've got to go,' I squeaked, but instantly, a fresh wave of pain sent my head into swims. 'Oooh,' I moaned, and Jesse, for that was his name, I guessed, pulled me back down onto the chair.  
  
'Oh, I get it,' he said, beginning to sound angry, 'So you're Susannah Simon. The one who told everyone I was a murderer.' He was now glaring at me. His eyes . . . They looked so incensed! Not good. When he was angry, he looked very dangerous . . . even more dangerous than Paul . . . and that's saying something. In fact, he had a tiny scar on his forehead that even seemed to be glaring at me. It had gone slightly white.  
  
What could I do? I couldn't move, because of what that bitch had done to my head, so I certainly couldn't get away from him. I mean, who wants to be too near to alleged killers, despite their sizzling hotness?  
  
'You are a murderer,' I glared back at him. 'I know your secret . . . '  
  
Jesse looked at me hard with those intense, Latino eyes, before sighing. 'I assume you've met Paul then, querida?'  
  
My glare changed to a confused frown. 'Huh? Uh . . . what did you call me?' I demanded quickly.  
  
He looked annoyed with himself. 'Um, nothing, sorry.'  
  
'But yeah,' I said. 'I've met him, I mean . . . He told me that you killed him.' I said the word "killed" with narrowed, suspicious eyes.  
  
Jesse stood up, and looked around. 'Okay, I admit it, I did. But I bet he didn't tell you the whole story, did he?'  
  
I stared at him, still holding his hanky to my bleeding forehead. 'Oh? Well, you mind filling me in?'  
  
He opened his mouth to speak, but the siren rang out, and instantly, a group of girls rushed into the locker room, on their way to the toilet to repair the damage, having been heavily targeted in the food fight, by the looks of it. They were all balling their lungs out. I saw that Kelly Prescott was among them, and had a large amount of mayonnaise and custard on her, and a huge meaty stain on the back of her skirt, where someone had obviously treated her backside to a meat pie. I snorted, as the girls ran by me and Jesse, screaming. They completely ignored him, which was very rare indeed. I looked up at him, and say that he was looking at them, astonished.  
  
'Nice school,' he commented, looking slightly dazed. 'It seems that there is more than enough food to go round. I won't starve, will I?'  
  
Again, I gave an unfeminine snort. I stood up, as people started to flood in. 'Well, when can I hear your version of events?' I asked.  
  
He thought for a second. 'Well . . . meet me here after school.'  
  
I blinked uncertainly. This was a possible murderer. Did I want to meet him anywhere?  
  
Yes. I was a mediator, and I had to find out what was going on. It was my job, despite the danger.  
  
'Okay,' I said finally, and he smiled slightly.  
  
'Good. You have the wrong idea. Believe me, I'm not cold blooded, I promise you, querida.'  
  
There he was again with that weird word thingie.  
  
'Hey,' I snapped, 'Don't call me anything. What is that, Italian?'  
  
'Spanish,' he said.  
  
Oh that's right . . .  
  
'Will you be okay?' he asked. I pulled the hanky from my head, and found that it had stopped bleeding. I went to give it back to him, but he wrinkled his nose and said, 'Er, you can keep it.'  
  
I grinned. 'Sorry.' I pocketed it, and went on my way. I could feel his gaze on me . . .  
  
What was I DOING?! He'd killed Paul, he'd even admitted it! I shouldn't have even been talking to him, let alone meeting him. Paul would crucify me if he found out I'd been fraternizing with the guy who had killed him!  
  
Oh, he wouldn't even hesitate, I was sure of that . . .  
  
But something about this Jesse guy . . . I dunno, it made me trust him. It was like I knew him already, and that made me believe that he was telling the truth.  
  
(A/N: How ironic . . . )  
  
I don't know. It was weird, but somehow, I knew I had to trust him if I was ever going to figure this out, and get Paul to move on.  
  
And boy, did I want him out of my life . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ***********  
  
That's all, folks! (Very bad imitation of Bugs Bunny, there . . .) But yeah. REVIEW, all of you, or no next chapter for ages. I gotta tell you, I'm going on HOLIDAY real soon, but if you're all very nice, and you review lots, I'll see if I can write all the other chapters and randomly post them while I'm in Sydney. Please?! *Puppy eyes?* But thanks for all the reviews so far! You've got me checking them twice a day, and there's always more! Your advice is always welcome, and if you have any suggestions or requests, don't hesitate, and I'll do my best to answer them in the chapters as clearly as I can.  
  
BYE!  
  
Preview:  
  
(Paul's POV)  
  
'Have you ever handled a gun, Heather?' I asked, grinning slyly at her . . .  
  
AND!  
  
(Suze's POV) In Jesse De Silva's bedroom.  
  
(DON'T GET IDEAS!!!!)  
  
His face slowly moved down towards mine. I was breathing very fast now . . . What was he doing? What was *I* doing? Why did this seem so wrong and so right at the same time?  
  
. . . And he kissed me . . .  
  
AND maybe!  
  
'Just visualize a long, foggy hallway, with a galaxy of stars above,' Paul whispered, squeezing my hand . . .  
  
(These are not quotes from the chapter. The sentences may be a little different, but can you guess what might be happening in the 1 / 2 chapters to come? Hehehe.)  
  
Love Princess Roxanne. 


	5. Accidental Shift

Yo guys, I'm back! Well, technically . . . er, no, but even though I'm still on holidays today, I'm dying to write! Also, if any psycho babble pops up in the chapter, that may be due to the fact that me, my Aunt Jenny and my cousins Alex and Chloe, were in a horrific car accident today! Serious! *Shudders . . .* But yeah, no lasting injuries that we know of, so let's see how we go, because it has been a rather trying day, and I'm as tired as you get . . . Also, I haven't checked my reviews, so if anyone's sent me one saying, "stop writing this crap or I'll bomb your family," I didn't see it, so leave them alone! Please! (And no, I'm Australian, not British . . .)  
  
Jeez, I need a holidays.  
  
Oh wait, I'm on one!  
  
Whatever.  
  
*******************************************************************  
  
Suze's POV.  
  
Last period . . . It was History with Mr Walden, and I was totally not listening to a word he was saying. So sue me? I mean who wanted to know about . . . well, whatever he was babbling about. But yeah. I was watching the clock intently. I mean, this whole meeting-a-murderer thing was really getting to me. Who knows? That Jesse De Silva could be plotting to kill me right now!  
  
Er, paranoid much, Suze?  
  
I sighed, as my eyes drilled into the clock. I watched the second hand slowly and steadily ticking, always bringing the hour hand closer to three . . .  
  
Tick, tock . . .  
  
'And so, America has now forced the people of Iraq to . . .'  
  
Tick, tock . . .  
  
Two minutes.  
  
Tick, tock . . .  
  
'Scott. What do you think about the war? Would you be brave enough to leave your families and go fight for our country in the name of . . .'  
  
One minute . . .  
  
'Huh sir?'  
  
'You weren't listening again, Scott?'  
  
'Um . . .'  
  
Thirty seconds!  
  
But then, the familiar crackle of the PA made my heart sink.  
  
'Susannah Simon? Would you please make your way to the principal's office immediately.'  
  
DAMMIT!!!  
  
I let out a huge, dragging groan, as everyone turned to look at me. Brad elbowed his jock mate Scott, and they both cracked up, until Mr Walden ditched a bit of chalk at the blackboard in annoyance. I rolled my eyes and walked out the door with all my books, just as the siren went, and a deafening cheer was released. Who could blame them? It was Friday. Like, last day of the week? No more school? Yeah, you get it. Kids came stampeding out of the doors to get to their lockers, nearly crushing me, but yeah. I wandered into Father Dom's office without knocking.  
  
'What? I'm waiting for the last ten seconds of school to pass, and you call me up here? What is the deal?' I snapped at him. He looked up from his computer which me was eyeing with deep distrust. He didn't really like using them, but he was told that he had to get up with the times. Which I totally agree to. I mean, you can't go living in the past all the time, can you? How uncool is that?  
  
'Susannah, manners. I wanted to personally inform you that . . .' he frowned at me ruefully, 'I couldn't get you out of your detention. You will still have to serve it this afternoon with Mr Osbourne. And no arguments,' he added as I went to yell, 'I tried my best, but his evidence was very incriminating. There was no way to explain it without saying that a ghost wrote it.'  
  
'Drew it,' I corrected, 'And it could have easily been Dopey!'  
  
'Who?'  
  
'Oh, Brad. He could have done it!'  
  
Father Dom's frown deepened. 'No . . . I tried things like that, but he wriggled around them. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do.'  
  
'B-B-But- I had PLANS!' I exploded at him.  
  
He widened his eyes. 'Susannah! For heaven's sake, sit down!'  
  
I sat, and pouted at him.  
  
'What I'm doing is very like, important, Father D,' I sulked, 'To do with mediation and everything. You know, the nice, negotiating way. No fists or head butts, just polite talking so I can help a poor lost soul of yours to get out of my life - I mean, move on.'  
  
His mouth twitched. You could see he totally knew I was laying it on thick. Well, I was, but it wasn't like he was supposed to KNOW.  
  
'I told you, I tried. But what's done is done. Now go, I'm sure Mr Osbourne is waiting for you.'  
  
I shot him one last glare, and left. He could have like, totally got Mr Osbourne in a head lock and forced him to let me go, but nooooo. Father Dom's way too soft. How sucky was that?  
  
I still was going to meet Jesse. I didn't care if I like, missed a detention. I mean, who cared? I grabbed my backpack from my locker, and then went to the locker area where I'd fatefully been rescued from Jesse before. Heather had finally pissed off too, so that was cool. I felt really weird -okay, scared - about meeting up with Jesse. I mean, he'd admitted that he'd committed homicide! What more proof do I need?  
  
I seriously have a death wish.  
  
Well, he was taking his sweet time. I looked around, but he was nowhere. Students were still slowly filtering from the building, when I felt a firm hand on my shoulder. I spun around, and was looking straight into the eyes of . . .  
  
Mr Osbourne.  
  
Oops.  
  
'Weren't going anywhere, were you Miss Simon?' he asked, giving me a wry, toothy smile.  
  
'Huh? Me, miss out on a detention?' I half squeaked, 'Why, of course not, Mr O. but you do realize that your grounds for issuing me one are completely crap. I did not draw that, when will you get it through your -'  
  
'Miss Simon, I strongly suggest that you shut your mouth, or you'll get more than a detention,' he growled, still with mirth. What was that supposed to mean. I glared at him, and at last, he dropped his hand from my shoulder. I followed him to his classroom, where two other unfortunate kids sat. This geek called Emma Something-or-other, and this pimply faced guy with really dirty hair who I'd never seen in my life, let alone at school. Shows how much I look, doesn't it?  
  
'Sit down, Susannah. You'll all me marking Yr. Eight tests in your detention today.'  
  
We all groaned.  
  
~*~  
  
I hate him so much! That had to be one of the most boring hours of my life! In fact it was MORE than an hour! I could confidently take the stupid test and get every single answer right after all that bloody marking. Oh, *stigmata to Mr Osbourne . . . Grr . . .  
  
(A/N: *Look that up too, little ones! Lol. I'm so tired, but I've got loads to go!)  
  
Anyway, it was way after five by the time I walked home. I totally missed my ride home, as you may have guessed, and I bet Jesse was really pissed with me. But yeah, life sucks.  
  
Oh, Paul was in deep, dark shit . . .  
  
I trudged into my room. What I day . . .  
  
My head still ached from Heather's little episode and all, which made me even more angry. I walked over to my boxing back and really let it all out. Each blow lifted one of my problems off of me, and evaporated it. And I was going to train harder than ever now, because Heather had stolen my dignity. A stupid ghost like her, stronger than Suze Simon?  
  
How rude!  
  
I punched and kicked the bag like there was no tomorrow, when I heard that drawling voice that oozed with pure egotism.  
  
'The sweaty look doesn't do you justice, little Susie.'  
  
Paul.  
  
Oh, someone was going to die.  
  
Slowly, I turned around, bubbling madly with repressed rage. He detected my anger, but it only made him smirk.  
  
'Well, let's hope little Paulie likes getting his face smashed in,' I snarled, and advanced on him.  
  
Oooh, scary Suze!  
  
He leant against the wall, grinning even more. 'Oh. You didn't like my sketch, I'll presume?'  
  
'You bloody cost me my afternoon, and my teacher saw it, and I got a detention for it, and I missed out on talking to J-' I stopped just in time. I almost told him that I was investigating behind his back! ' - J Jasmine, my, uh, friend. For school. Yeah.'  
  
Paul raised an elegant eyebrow.  
  
I exploded. I mean, who wouldn't? He was just so careless about the whole thing!  
  
'Look!' I yelled at him, 'You're completely screwing up my life! You can't go getting me into trouble just because you freakin' feel like it! I'm sick of seeing you all the time! Don't you get it? I hate you Paul. Now just get lost before I do something that I might regret.'  
  
He stared at me in bewilderment.  
  
Then, the ass had the nerve to say, 'PMS, right?'  
  
I was breathing hell hard then. I knew that he was going to get hurt in a second, real, REAL bad if he didn't shut up and piss off. I glared at him so intensely that usually, any sane, NORMAL person would be quailing and fleeing then.  
  
But since when is Paul a sane, normal person?  
  
No, instead of running, he grinned, and took a few steps towards me. 'Come on Suze, it was just a joke. You can take a joke, right?' And accompanying this message, he went to grab me around the waist, but no. Not this time.  
  
'Screw you, Paul,' I said, and flipped him over my back so he landed with a hard thud on the floor. Then, I kicked him in the groin.  
  
Aren't I sweet?  
  
He groaned, and held onto his er . . . yeah, there. But when he looked up at me, he was still thinking the whole thing was funny. There was great mirth in his icy blue eyes.  
  
WHAT WAS THIS GUY ON?!?!?!  
  
I shook my head at him. 'Get out Paul. Leave, and don't come back, or I promise on my dad's grave that I WILL exorcise you.'  
  
Suddenly, the grin left his lips. He got up, looking angry. Very angry.  
  
'Now Susie,' he said. 'I don't think you'll want to do that. I can do so many things to make you suffer, you know.'  
  
'Yeah? Not if you're in Purgatory, dickhead,' I retorted, and stepped down hard on his foot. He swore, and fell back onto my bed. But then, he jumped up and seized my arms, slammed me against the wall, and pinned my hands above my head.  
  
Er, this was kind of hurting?  
  
And it was also kind of scary . . .  
  
You know?  
  
'Suze I'm warning you. You have no idea what I can do to make your life a living hell. I strongly suggest that you watch you back, if you are thinking that you and I aren't going to be friends any more . . . ' he breathed in my face. I mean, seriously, he was WAY too close for my liking. I could see the ferocity stirring behind those icy blues.  
  
I blinked. Okay, so I was scared? No ghost I'd met had scared me like this. What was wrong with me? Why didn't I just knock him flat, and spit on him?  
  
Because he used to be a mediator.  
  
He knew exactly what I could do, and more, and could prevent it.  
  
He knew I knew that.  
  
Paul was still drilling into me. 'So, are you going to be clever, and forget we ever had this conversation? Because you know something? I like where I am thanks. I was here first. I really don't feel like leaving, and nothing, NOTHING you do will make me go. So if we could just be, you know, pals, we'll get along just FINE.'  
  
Yeah, he was kind of yelling all of this? So it wasn't too comfortable for me.  
  
'Paul,' I said sweetly. Then, I said something that, yeah I'm not proud of. I don't usually use words like that, but Paul WAY deserved them. It was past te realms of disgusting, involving one's male anatomy, and several extremely colourful words. I think that he was thoroughly bewildered that I'd been so lax with my politeness.  
  
He let go of my hands, and I made a huge thing of massaging them and all.  
  
'Now piss off,' I said.  
  
He looked at me strangely.  
  
'Suze, I told you. I'm not going anywhere. I'm coming back later, so be ready. There's something you have to see.'  
  
And before I could object or anything, he was gone . . .  
  
Whoa . . .  
  
~*~  
  
It was a while before I did see him again. I'd had dinner by then, AND I'd done my homework, safely checking all the backs of my sheets before reinserting them into my folders. Then, I'd jumped into the shower in my bikini still. I know, it's a hard knock life for me, isn't it? I was letting the steaming hot water drip down my body, watching the hot vapour rise into the air. And the bikini thing did pay off . . .  
  
'Hello, Susie.'  
  
I opened my eyes rapidly, and there was Paul standing in front of me, the water falling straight through him! He'd totally materialized there without me knowing!  
  
Oh my GOD!!!!  
  
I totally screamed, forgetting that I was safely covered, and pushed him through the shower curtain. He fell in a puddle of hot water, but wasn't wetted by it or anything. I stared at him in pure horror. I couldn't BELIEVE that someone could be so disgusting!  
  
Okay, EXCLUDING what I'd said before . . .  
  
I seized my towel and wrappedit firmly around me and all. I mean, he was LOOKING.  
  
Ew . . .  
  
He stood up, his grin crooked at one side, but I was pissed, and I totally slapped him one on the face.  
  
'I deserved that,' he smirked. 'And don't looked so shocked, I told you I'd be back.'  
  
'Er, yeah,' I said wrathfully, 'Your timing is impeccable, really it is!' And I gave him another slap, you know?  
  
Well, attempted to. He caught my hand, and put it back down.  
  
'Be a good girl Susie. Now, get dressed, I have something to show you.' He leaned back against the door, and crossed his arms, a perfectly smug expression splashed across that hot, naughty face.  
  
I shook my head at him. 'My getting dressed requires you to be on the other side of the door, numb nut.'  
  
'Says who?'  
  
He said that again . . . The last time he said that, he'd been kissing me . . . I closed my eyes, trying to block it out. I mean, it was bad enough that it had happend, but I had almost enjoyed it for a second!  
  
'Says me, just like last time. Now make like a tree.'  
  
He laughed. 'And leave? Oh, I really don't think I want- '  
  
He was more inclined to do as I asked when I cordially dealt him a dynamic kick in the family jewels.  
  
And in my bikini, too. Impressive, Suze . . .  
  
I slipped into my PJs, and finally went out after brushing my teeth and all. He was sitting on my bed. The moonlight was shining against his face, casting the valleys into deep shadow, but highlighting his eyes, the side of his nose, and his hair. I blinked, and shook myself. Bad Suze . . .  
  
He stood up, smiling. 'You look good.'  
  
I scoffed. 'Last time I checked, monkey pajamas weren't categorized as formal wear.'  
  
He laughed. 'But monkies suit you.'  
  
'Oh,' I said doubtfully, 'I'm so flattered, really. And a word of the wise for you Paul. A wise monkey never monkies with another monkey's monkey.'  
  
He snorted. 'Nice . . . How am I supposed to interpret that?'  
  
'However you like,' I said standoffishly. What? The guy was trying to sweet talk me? I wasn't going to accept his compliments lying down!  
  
Oh . . . Bad mental pictures there . . .  
  
He groped for my hand. 'Come out here,' he whispered, leading me to the opened window. I frowned, confused.  
  
'Huh? Where are you going?'  
  
'Wait and see, Susie.'  
  
'Don't call me that.'  
  
'I think I will.'  
  
'No, I think you WON'T,' I said, and got ready to knee him again, but he nodded and shrugged it off.  
  
Once up against the frame, I felt the cool night breeze carressing my face gently. Paul climbed out first, and onto the roof.  
  
'Paul?' I called up, 'What's going on? Where are you?'  
  
'Come on up, it's safe and all,' he called back.  
  
I frowned. Great, knowing my luck, he was probably going to try and push me off the roof and make it look like I fell. Hey, he'd get his room back, right?  
  
Feeling uneasy, I followed him up. No fear, that's me.  
  
Ha, not lately.  
  
Paul so doesn't do me justice, aye.  
  
On the roof, Paul was standing carefully on the tiles. The wind was more forceful up here, and I felt like I was going to fall. I carefully stepped toward him, but me being the pinacle of elegance, I slipped.  
  
Only, Paul kind of caught me.  
  
I looked up at him, blinking. 'Er, thanks.' Then I remembered what he'd done before, I let go hastily. He was trying to weazle his way back into my good books. Well, my good books had padlocks just for security now. So there.  
  
He sat down and leant back againt the stant of the roof, and told me to follow suit. I did, feeling really weirded out. What was he planning to do? I mean, if I screamed, surely someone from the neighbourhood would hear me, right?  
  
Yeah Suze, and they'd come up and find you battling thin air, and think you were possessed, or on something real bad.  
  
My life is a toilet.  
  
(A/N: Quoted from Gretel Killeen, for all you aussies . . . lol.)  
  
And I just got flushed.  
  
After about a minute of none of us speaking, and me looking around at all the other rooftops to see if there was anyone else there, (yeah I know, oh so common,) I finally looked at Paul again.  
  
'The point of this was?' I prompted, leaning back and feeling really edgy.  
  
'Look up, Suze,' he said.  
  
I did.  
  
And . . . Oh my God . . .  
  
It was spectacular! The stars, they seemed so close and everything! Like silvery glitter spilt finely over a sheet of inky black paper, with a couple of diamonties dropped randomly around. They twinkled faintly. And the moon, it was HUGE! I gasped in mystified awe, lost in the midnight sky . . .  
  
'Beautiful, isn't it?' Paul breathed in my ear, in that enticing way that he'd done so many times before. Except, this time, I was too hypnotized by the beauty of this magical void above me to notice.  
  
'Stunning,' I agreed vaguely. And I meant it. You have no idea how easing it was. I felt dazed, far away . . .  
  
'Could you just imagine?' Paul said, 'A hallway that opened up to the stars? A long foggy hallway that went on forever, with so many doors that you felt you could never escape through the right one. And with a beautiful starry sky right above . . .'  
  
I closed my eyes softly, visualizing what he'd just said. 'Yeah,' I gasped. I felt him squeeze my hand.  
  
But then, with the rush of my life, I felt as if a terrifying tornado was lifting my and Paul away from my rooftop, away from my earth even! It was an evanescent feeling, because when I woke up, I was lying on a cold, glasslike ground, with waves of fog washing over me. I jerked upright, looking around in panic. There was Paul standing over me, looking around with a smirk on his face.  
  
'It's been a while since I've been here,' he said conversationally.  
  
I stared at him, my eyes wide and sore from the bitterness of the fog.  
  
'Paul,' I squealed, 'Where the freaking hell are we?' Only I didn't say freaking.  
  
Paul smiled, and extended a hand, but I wriggled away from him. 'Stay away from me, you psycho. What did you do? What is this place?'  
  
His smirk widened. 'Well, Susie, this is where all the ghosts go when you exorcise them. Now you can experience the terror that they feel when they are sent here by you . . . ' He took a threatening step closer.  
  
'I said stay away from me!' I yelled, and scrambled up. He didn't stop though, so I ran down the hallway. It went on forever!  
  
Never in my life had I been this scared! Paul was a piece of piss compared to the fear that I was feeling now!  
  
'Suze, you can run, but you won't get anywhere. This hallway never ends. It goes on for all time,' he said from behind me. His voice was echoing through the sky, haunting me worse than any ghost could. The stars above were distorted and close, not like the ones from earth. My heart was thudding triple time, and I tried to put as much distance between us as possible.  
  
My feet pounded on the glass . . . I didn't know what to do! Finally, I stopped, leant against a door, and went to open it, when . . .  
  
'No!' Paul yelled, and tackled me to the floor. I was crying. I was panicking! Not a good combination for me. I glared at him.  
  
'I'm going through. It'll lead somewhere else but here!' I snapped.  
  
'Don't go through any of the doors Suze,' he said. 'And don't walk into the light up ahead.'  
  
'Oh, whatEVER!' I screamed, and threw him off, but again, he tackled me down. I flipped and all, but he was stronger than me.  
  
Bastard . . .  
  
'Suze, just visualize your room again, and stop spazzing out!' he snapped, shaking my shoulders. I stopped practically hyperventilating, and looked at him. His eyes were riveted on me, as if he was really worried.  
  
'What makes you think that I trust you?' I yelled at him. 'I'll probably be sent to hell or something!'  
  
'Look. you want to get you of here alive? I could be stuck here too. You weren't suppose to lose your head here!' he said angrily, hauling me to my feet.  
  
I stared at him. I usually feel sympathy towards the insane, but Paul was worthy of a special exception.  
  
'Well, maybe you could have let me know about this before you made me materialize into the freaking Shadow World!' I screamed in reply, slamming HIM against one of the doors.  
  
'Yeah? What do you think I've been trying to do ever since I met you? You need to know these things as a shifter, Suze! You could be so -'  
  
'Yeah yeah, like, SO powerful. That's yesterday's news, asswipe. Now get me out of here!' I don't know how I knew, but somehow, I realized that there was a LOT at stake at the moment. I wasn't sure what, but I knew that it was really really big . . .  
  
So, I didn't know what to do but trust him. I jammed my eyes shut, and, with Paul still holding me, visualized my room . . .  
  
And, with a wind identicle to the one before, I opened my eyes and I was lying on my bed with Paul.  
  
Er, ok . . . Holy shit!  
  
***********************************************************  
  
And a special, huge, enormous, gigantic thanks to the awesom Lauren aka nothin to you for this. *Gives her a big cyber bear hug.*  
  
PLEASE REVIEW!!! 


	6. Sleeping With the Enemy

Okay, here it is. Enjoy! It's a little different . . . Don't forget to review.  
  
**************************************************************************** ********************************  
  
Paul's POV.  
  
As soon as Suze had shifted us back into her room, I knew I was in trouble. We were both lying on her bed, but I felt her shoulders go oddly tense. Oh well, I was prepared for anything.  
  
'Paul?' came her voice from beside me. I wasn't going to be a coward and dematerialize, plainly because I had her right where I wanted her. I bet you anything that the next question she asked was going to be about shifting . . . You watch . . .  
  
'Yeah, Susie?'  
  
'WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!' she turned to me and roared in my face.  
  
I sat up, mildly stunned. Okay, well, I don't think any mental problems of mine could fit into the shifting category, damn it. So I was wrong? But you watch her next question . . .  
  
'Well? Are you on crack?!' she demanded.  
  
Oooh, this was disappointing. Twice wrong. Not exactly an ego-booster. Although, ask any chick I've done, I don't need one. I got off the bed, and so did she.  
  
'Excuse me?' she shrilled, 'You don't make a girl materialize to some parallel universe, and then leave her hanging. I want answers, bucko. How the hell did I do that?' Her face was white with a mixture of rage and fright.  
  
I smirked. Third time lucky, yes. I'm a very lucky bugger.  
  
Well, besides the fact that I'm dead. I mean, let's review. I was killed at the age of seventeen. I mean, doesn't everyone want to die young, and look pretty? Well, damn, I do. Or did, I dunno. And, I  
  
happened to die in the very room that a very beautiful, very HOT sixteen year old chick now inhabits. I mean, if that's not lucky, I don't know what is. And plus, I'm in very good shape, so it's only a  
  
matter of time before she gives in and falls for my charm.  
  
Oh, I'm not arrogant at ALL.  
  
'HELLO! I'm talking to you, you prick!' Suze was yelling at me. I snapped back to reality. Hey? I'm a guy who sees the glass as half-full. Don't ruin it for me, okay?  
  
I turned back to her, still smirking. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, and she was looking way, way mad. Nothing I couldn't handle . . .  
  
'Sorry, must have missed that,' I said coolly. She took a menacing step towards me, but please . . . The babe was a foot shorter, as if was scared?  
  
She just glared. 'I asked,' she said through gritted teeth, 'What this is about "shifting." Because -'  
  
'Oh,' I said simply, 'You want to listen to me now?' I wasn't going to play games, because I knew if I was too cocky, she wouldn't want me to tell her.  
  
'Well, if you're going to be such a -' she began, but I stopped her. Well, stopped isn't really the word for what I did. Oh, I was fast. Very fast. I like fast, you see. Quick as the cunning snake I am, I  
  
scooped her into me, and while she was still shocked, I kissed her.  
  
Hard.  
  
I also like hard too.  
  
I couldn't tell if she was protesting to this or not, and frankly, I didn't care. My hand strayed down to her ass, and yeah, I gave it a little squeeze. So what? She didn't need to stop, did she?  
  
'PAUL!' she squealed, and pushed me away from her in outrage. Her eyes were so wide I could see the entire circles of her dazzling emerald irises.  
  
'What?' I asked defensively. 'You know that you've been wanting this, Suze.'  
  
'Is that what you really think?' she retorted, still backing away from me slowly, like I was an escaped panther that was advancing on her at some zoo. I grinned. She was just playing hard to get . . .  
  
'Well, you can fully tell, Suze. I mean, come on! We've been together for almost a month now, and we still haven't -'  
  
'Paul, we are NOT together. We are two very different people who were thrown together in a very awkward situation due to the fact that you haven't passed on into your afterlife yet!'  
  
'Well, let's make the best of this awkward situation,' I said seductively, and pushed her down against her bed. Her eyes went wide.  
  
'Paul, you - you do anything, and I swear, I'll scream!' she warned, her voice shaking slightly. I knew what she was feeling. All her life, she was acting like the medium that she was supposed to be, all tough and ruthless, but that was just covering the fact that she was still just a girl, all vulnerable, and very attractive to men.  
  
But what she said made me smirk. 'Oh yeah, Suze. And what will they find when they come in here? You on a bed, screaming? I'm invisible to them, remember? Mum'll chuck you straight into a nut house. And that's what you've been trying to keep from her all your life, isn't it? That you can speak to the dead. That's what you will never tell her, even if it kills you . . .'  
  
Her eyes went even wider, if possible. And I guess it was, because they did.  
  
'How did you know that?' she whispered softly.  
  
My smirk faded.  
  
'I was exactly the same,' I said.  
  
Her mouth fell open. 'Really?' she asked, and sat up a bit. I forgot about what I wanted to do to her. Somebody, I realized, could understand exactly where I was coming from. I'd never had a conversation with someone like that . . .  
  
And I can get sex any day. This couldn't wait.  
  
'Yes, really. I have a brother,' I told her. 'His name is Jack, and he's a lot younger than I am. I think he's nine, ten this year. He tells everyone that he can see ghosts, and they reject him. My mother, well, she put him in therapy and everything, and still, he doesn't get it. He hates his life, and the ghosts scare him. And he hates mum for making him go through all of it. I never told him that I was the same as him, because I knew he'd tell. "Oh, tell 'em, Paul! You're like me! We can both see ghosts! We are both freaks!" I don't think I'm a freak. I know I'm very aware of what I am. Jack was just a medium, but I'm something more than that,' I said, and paused.  
  
Okay, for the love of God, don't get the wrong idea. I wasn't "opening up" and letting all my bottled up feelings out. No, that's not my style. I knew exactly what I was saying, and all of that little speech was carefully crafted to give Suze the IDEA that I was a troubled little boy or something. No, I was just going to trick her into learning more about shifting.  
  
'What are you?' she breathed. My God, what a great audience. It was as if she was watching a soap opera, and they were just about to reveal who the father of "the baby" was or something. I mean, how corny was it? I would have burst out laughing if it hadn't been so beneficial to me for her to know - or want to know - about shifting.  
  
'I'm a shifter,' I whispered back.  
  
"And yes," says Kelly Osbourne, "The award for the worst acting goes to . . . Paul Slater!"  
  
I'd like to thank my mum . . . really. Oh, gimme a break.  
  
Suze looked confused. 'What the hell is a shifter?'  
  
I told her. 'A shifter is a lot like a medium - or mediator, as you prefer - because we can still talk to, hear, feel and see the dead. But we can do more. So much more. One of our extra powers, you just discovered for yourself, Suze.'  
  
She blinked. 'Huh?'  
  
I looked at her intensely. 'You know? The whole, moving across the astral plane thing? Yeah, that's known as shifting.'  
  
'Oh . . .' she muttered. I was losing interest, damn it!  
  
'And you know what that means?' I asked dramatically, moving my face a little closer to hers to set the mood.  
  
'N . . . No?'  
  
I smiled. 'You're a shifter too, Suze,' I generously revealed. My God, this was so stupid . . .  
  
She didn't looked too shocked. Huh? She was supposed to fan her face and faint or something, not raise her eyebrows at me!  
  
'Er, Paul? I kind of gathered that,' she said, rolling her eyes, and slumping in her bed. That was when I realized that she had been putting on a big "innocent, oblivious girl" act too.  
  
Goes to show how similar we are.  
  
But it was annoying.  
  
'Look,' I snapped menacingly, 'If you're not going to listen to what I have to say willingly, I'll make you.'  
  
She started to shake sarcastically. 'R-r-really? Oh, g-g-g-gosh! I'm t-t-t- terrified, honest! Now, p-p-p-p- PISS OFF!'  
  
Now I was angry. She was mocking me. Nobody had ever mocked me and had kept their nose healthy. Not that I was going to smash her nose in. Oh please. Give me some credit. No, I'd do what I was doing before . . .  
  
I leant forward and grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back against her pillows. It was very satisfying to see that sarcastic, smug look fade from her eyes like sand in an hourglass. My face was only like, I dunno, five centimeters away from hers. If I wasn't so pissed off with her, I would have kissed her romantically so something, but no. I'd get something out of her; I'd waited long enough.  
  
'Get off me,' she said.  
  
'No.'  
  
'Get off, or I'll make you regret it.'  
  
'Um . . . no. Nothing you could do could scare me, Susie,' I smirked complacently. I mean, Suze? Not the scary type. I mean, sure, she could flip me over her back and kick me in the nuts, but it wasn't like it was lasting.  
  
What I could do to her would scar her for life . . .  
  
But then, I saw her forehead wrinkle in pain. Her whole face contorted, in fact. What? Did she want sympathy? I totally knew she was faking it . . .  
  
'Ah, shit,' she whispered.  
  
'What's wrong?' I asked. Okay, so I wasn't going to . . . you know, if she really was sick or whatever. I'm not that low.  
  
'Nothing, just I have a migraine or something,' she said.  
  
Of course . . . Post shifting. I forgot to tell her . . .  
  
Well, she didn't need to be put off the whole thing even more. So, I just got off her, and stood back. She sat up, and held her forehead in her hands, moaning softly. I remembered my first post-shifting headache. It was the pits, I tell you.  
  
I dematerialized out. What? Look, I wasn't going to go get her a little tablet and a nice glass of water for her. I'm not that sucky. I left her while she was sick. I mean, it's no fun when the other person's sick, is it?  
  
And you know exactly what I mean.  
  
~*~  
  
So, I was just sitting on the roof of her house. That's where I always go. Either that or the beach. I love waves, aye. And surfing. Pity good-boy Jesse De Back-stabber didn't consider any of that when he made me eat lead. That's right, I was shot. In the head, too! I ask, where the f* is the justice in this world? Me, a ghost, while Rico bloody Suave gets to live? And here I was, craving, well, satisfaction, and there was no one to give it to me. Whereas if I was ALIVE, I could have so easily gotten some stupid slut off the street to come up with me. But noooo. I was a GHOST. I was DEAD. And De Stupid was sitting pretty in his house, ALIVE.  
  
So, I was angry, AND horny. Not a good combination, especially if I couldn't get rid of the feeling.  
  
Hang on . . .  
  
Something that Suze once said occurred to me . . .  
  
"I met a girl named Heather on my first day . . ." she'd said. "Oh, and she's a ghost . . . "  
  
And what else? Something like "blonde, pretty, great bod, full tan, hip dresser, hey! Your type of girl."  
  
I only hope she wasn't joking . . .  
  
~*~  
  
I was standing at Suze's school, the Juniperro Serra Mission Academy. What a sad name. Beside me, was this really tall gold statue of some monkey- looking guy with all these native chicks dancing around him. Lucky bastard. I mean, those chicks were hot, despite the fact they were kind of solid.  
  
But yeah.  
  
I walked silently through the door of the school, which lead into a wide hallway, full with clean looking lockers. Everything would have been very grey during the day, but was now cast into darkness. I strained my ears. God, if I didn't find her soon, I was going to have to resort to ma-  
  
Oh, Paul, don't think of that . . .  
  
Then, to my joy, I heard a sign of feminine inhabitation. It was a long, blood-curling scream of frustration, coming from down the hallway, closely followed by the tinkling sound of shattering glass. I silently made my way to the source of the shrill shriek, and stood at the door of where I assumed she was. I stepped through the door.  
  
Let us all praise Suze Simon!  
  
Holy shit, she'd been right! I stared at the babe before me. She was crying hysterically, and ditching chairs at the windows.  
  
Damn! She was FINE.  
  
Well, to be honest, she was nothing compared to Suze. I mean, the boobs were too small, the butt was too big, and the face had this really annoying look on it. But still, for a ghost!  
  
You are one lucky bastard, Paul.  
  
'Well, well, well. It's not a very good night to be on your own, in a dark, scary school. You might see a ghost,' I said. Yes, in a very enticing, sexy way. And the way she'd just totally dropped the chair and tensed up? Well, that was very rewarding.  
  
She turned around, and gawked at me. I could see her melting. Well, who wouldn't? I am considered as a major hottie. Even Suze did it when she first met me, even though she's not willing to admit it to the general public. So the reaction was completely normal. I smirked. Oh, you still got it, Paul . . .  
  
'Who are you?' she asked nervously, and suddenly became very conscious of her hair. My smirk widened. I narrowed my eyes, and looked her up and down again. She was wearing this little denim, pleated schoolgirl skirt, which was cute enough, but the top? A little daggy cardigan? She must have been down when she died. That cardigan HAD to go . . .  
  
But you know, even though I liked the skirt, that *cough* had to go too . . .  
  
'Me?' I asked, 'Who are you?'  
  
That's when she got her confidence. 'I asked you first,' she smiled seductively.  
  
Yes! She was a player! Oh, tonight was going to be so much fun.  
  
I took a step toward her. 'Well,' I said, standing right over her, 'I guess I can tell you that . . . because I already know that you're Heather. Just call me . . . Paul.  
  
'Paul,' she said, touching my arm and fluttering her eyelashes, 'I just loooooove that name . . . '  
  
My God. This was so obvious that she wanted me. But then, I always went for these girls back when I was alive. The ones who didn't care about commitment and love and shit like that. No strings attached  
  
(A/N: Little does Paul know, lol.)  
  
'I know,' I said, sliding my hand behind her back, 'So do I . . .'  
  
And with that, I dematerialized with her to my old bedroom, in my old house in Seattle, the one I lived in before I was killed. So what if Jack heard? He'd be too scared to come and check . . .  
  
And as usual, there was a BED in there . . .  
  
~*~  
  
No, I'm not going to tell you anything. You are too young for . . . er, what went down. Well? Okay, me, but I'm talking about the icky sticky details. But let me say, that girl was good. So good, she almost put ME to shame.  
  
Almost.  
  
Because, after all, I'm the king.  
  
She liked me a lot, too. Me and my big . . . friend.  
  
So, we were lying in my bed, panting. It had only been an hour, but I was very satisfied.  
  
'So,' she said affectionately, snuggling against me, 'Paul.'  
  
Oh no . . . not talking . . .  
  
'Yes?' I groaned. She ran her hand across my chest, and sighed. Great . . .  
  
'You know, you're not like other guys I've met,' she smiled at me. No, no, NO!  
  
'You know what?' I said, hoping to turn her off, 'How did you die?'  
  
Well, it worked. She went very stiff, and then turned away from me. 'Oh, uh, sorry,' I said, not meaning it of course, 'I didn't mean to bring up any painful memories. So, what happened? Car accident, or something? Isn't that annoying, how people steal your life?'  
  
'For your information, Paul,' she said with icy cold bitterness, 'I committed SUICIDE.'  
  
'Oh.'  
  
Oops . . .  
  
She was glaring at me. But then she sighed. 'Well, I suppose you want to know why?'  
  
'Well, actually -'  
  
'It was because of my ex-boyfriend,' she interrupted, not hearing me. 'His name was Bryce. Bryce Martinsen. I was in love with him. I thought we were going to get married. I'd already thought of what I was going to call my daughter. Martina. Isn't that such a sweet name?' she asked dreamily, turning to face me.  
  
Er . . . Martina Martinsen? Is she INSANE?  
  
'Yes, nice,' I said, trying not to gag.  
  
'Well,' she continued, her expression changing back like lightning, 'I'd just taken him shopping, and I saw the most gorgeous engagement ring ever. It was 18 carat, and had this huge diamond on it, surrounded by these little sapphires. I told him that was the one I wanted, and he went all pale and everything. We went wandering for a bit more, when he said . . . he said . . .' she let out a loud hiccup, trying not to cry, 'that he thought it wasn't going to work out between us, and that he couldn't see us having a future. And the bastard ended it! JUST LIKE THAT!'  
  
She yelled that last bit out. My head was pounding. I HATE it when chicks babble about their old boyfriends. I mean, what a TURN OFF.  
  
Suddenly, I realized something. I had to get rid of her, or Suze might find out!  
  
I didn't think of that before. God, if she knew, she'd never sleep with me. I blew it!  
  
That's right.  
  
Thinking quick, I said, 'Where's this asshole Bryce at the moment then, baby?'  
  
She frowned. 'His family's staying at this stupid Resort in New York. Can you believe that? How that Susannah skank came from there, and now my boyfriend went there. Father Dominic made him transfer, saying that he was in danger. Too true . . . He didn't think he'd be able to get me to leave without help. He didn't know about Simon then-'  
  
'What resort?' I asked urgently.  
  
'Uh . . . Something like "Le Grande Hotel" or something . . . ' (A/N: Yeah, I KNOW. It sucks, but hey? I panicked . . . )  
  
I sat up, subconsciously clinging my T-shirt to me. What? We were ghosts. We had no use for sheets and blankets, because if we didn't always concentrate on them, they'd merge straight through us. Our clothes were "dead," like us, so we could always feel them. But yeah . . .  
  
'Okay,' I said, starting to grin. I mean, this was getting fun now. 'How would you like to get revenge on this faggot then? He doesn't deserve you, Heather.'  
  
She widened her eyes, beaming at me with love and admiration. I felt nauseous.  
  
'Really? You think that?' she hiccuped.  
  
'Yeah, yeah, now about the revenge thing?' I said with annoyance. Jeez, I can see why the poor bastard dumped her. I mean, she was a great lay and all, but that was under-compensating how clinging and annoying she was. Eugh, she wanted to be treated like some fossilized flower or something. Well, excuse me, but she needed to be crushed quickly.  
  
And the best way to do that is to get her to pass on into her afterlife. Hopefully Eternal Damnation . . .  
  
She thought for a second . . . Then, an angry look came to her face. 'I'll do it! But, er, what do you mean by . . . revenge?'  
  
I laughed. How oblivious can you get?  
  
'What else? I mean, kill him.'  
  
She looked evanescently scandalized, but then an evil smile spread across her thin lips.  
  
'Done.'  
  
'Okay, well, get dressed, I'll be back in a second, and we'll go to this Le Grande Hotel or whatever, and we'll kill him . . .'  
  
~*~  
  
I'm a man true to my word. Well, okay, I'm not, but this time I was. I mean, I was getting something out of this, wasn't I? Suze would never know I slept with Heather if I made her move on by killing what she thought was holding her back. So yeah, within ten minutes, I was standing outside the Le Grande Hotel thing in New York.  
  
With a gun.  
  
Oh, and Heather brought some lipstick too.  
  
No, not for vanity purposes, I needed it for my plan. And yes, I did have a plan. I'm very organized, you see.  
  
But, uh, impulsive when I wanted to be, if the way I handle Suze is any indication.  
  
So yeah, this Hotel place. It looked really expensive, with all the beige and the black paint everywhere. It was very posh and all. I mean, nothing less of what my family would have stayed in. The Martinsens were obviously very well off.  
  
Well money couldn't save Bryce Martinsen now.  
  
Heather nodded at me, and we both materialized to the foyer. There was some guy at the reception desk, typing madly on a computer. I had a closer look, and saw he was looking at something not too professional. I mean, it was something that I'd look at, but I don't have a full time job, do I?  
  
I walked past him - he couldn't see me, could he? - and looked in this book that was on the desk. Inside was a register of all the tenants. I ran my finger down the list, till I came to the Martinsen family. They were in Room 273 on the fourth floor. I grinned, and then decided to play a little trick on the reception guy. I mean, surely he shouldn't have been looking at such inappropriate sites, right? Well, he needed to be taught a lesson.  
  
And I was more than happy to be the teacher.  
  
I sauntered over to his computer, and yanked out the switch. The screen zoomed into a tiny black square and shut off completely. The reception dude knit his eyebrows.  
  
'Huh?'  
  
He looked around to check if there had been a full power cut, but no, the rest of the lights were still working, right?  
  
Then, I went over to the light switch, and started flicking them on and off. The lights flashed madly. He looked terrified.  
  
'Come out!' he yelled, digging his hand into the drawer 'I've got a gun!'  
  
I smiled, and made myself visible. (Yes, ex-shifters can do that, but it's really hard.) 'So have I.'  
  
His face was the zenith of terror at that moment. It went white and sweaty, and his hands began to shake.  
  
'Please,' he stuttered, 'I-'  
  
BANG.  
  
He was dead before he hit the floor.  
  
Heather cackled with glee. I turned to her and rolled my eyes. 'Don't try any of this at home, kids,' I said to myself, and blew the top of the gun in a cowboy manner. 'Come on baby, the fourth floor for us, Room 273.'  
  
We materialized up there. The hallway was bathed in a warm light. Well, that wouldn't do at all. I concentrated on the light bulbs all down the hall, and within a second, they all blew up with the tinkling of fracturing glass, with fine smoke settling to the ground. I smirked. I was getting wild again. And when I'm wild, I can't seem to stop what happens.  
  
Nor do I want to.  
  
I came to the door of the Martinsen's room with Heather standing next to me, clinging onto her skirt nervously, but clutching her lipstick. She looked really determined, in an annoying way.  
  
I'm sorry, but I was really coming to dislike the skank.  
  
We walked straight through the door, and through to a really flash hotel living area. Everything was cast into darkness, and had a very settled atmosphere to it. I clutched the gun in my hand, and Heather followed me into the first bedroom.  
  
'First time lucky,' whispered Heather. 'That's him . . .'  
  
The dude was lying, asleep in his twisted sheets, with just his boxers on. I looked sideways at Heather, and I saw that she was glaring so intensely at him, that the mirror on the wall shook, and fell to the floor.  
  
Bryce's POV  
  
Crap!  
  
I sat upright. Damn, I'd been having the best dream about riding this great wave, and then something has to crash. I looked dully around, and saw that my mirror had fallen.  
  
Who gives? I'd get someone from the hotel to clean it in the morning. I was tired.  
  
I was about to go back to sleep when I saw something full weird. There was a GUN floating at the opposite corner of my room. I rubbed my eyes, but nope, it was still there.  
  
Jeez, Aaron had slipped me a few too many whiskeys tonight. No more partying with him . . . I looked once again at the gun, but it was gone. But, there instead, was a little floating lipstick.  
  
STOP WITH THE FLOATING CRAP ALREADY!  
  
I was drunk. I wasn't seeing this, it wasn't real. Go to sleep, Bryce, who gives a crap about some hallucination you're having.  
  
But now, the lipstick was moving. The cap had been pulled off, and it was going really close to the wall.  
  
And then, to my horror, I saw the most terrifying thing in my life. Somebody was writing on the wall with lipstick, but it was no one I could see . . .  
  
"Hey Brycie, it's me. Remember? You're girlfriend, Heather? Or, should I say, EX-girlfriend. I just want to say that I'm now a ghost. I didn't move on, I'm stuck haunting our old school. Which really sucks, you know? So, I'm going to make myself feel better. And for that, I have a friend to help me with that."  
  
Oh no . . . This was SO a dream. I stopped having dreams about Heather long ago. What is up with this?  
  
But I had this really bad feeling that I wasn't asleep.  
  
I stared at the message. This was totally not cool. I was hallucinating. I mean, lipstick doesn't float, and it doesn't write messages from dead girlfriends on five star hotel walls. I mean, you know how annoying that would be to clean?  
  
But then, I noticed that gun that I had seen before, aimed right at my head. Oooh no . . .  
  
'This is NOT funny!' I yelled. It had to be strings . . . Fishing line! These things don't float!  
  
And then all things around my room started to shake.  
  
Paul's POV  
  
The stupid dickhead . . . He was screaming. I mean, really, how big a wuss was he? I don't scream like that. Heather was pretty angry by now. She was yelling things at him, even though he couldn't even hear her.  
  
'This serves you right, Bryce! I loved you! I wanted to marry you, I loved you so much, and then you just go and blow me off like I don't matter. Well guess what? We're going to blow you off . . . Your head, to be exact!'  
  
'Heather?' he screamed. Yeah, as in, way high-pitched, 'If that's you, I'm sorry!'  
  
'You bet your sorry ass it's me, Bryce!' she shrieked.  
  
Everything in his room began to shake. The mirror totally shattered, and all the paintings fell to the floor. I thought that this whole thing was hilarious.  
  
'He can't hear you, remember baby?' I said flatly, smirking in mirth. I mean, this has to be the only way to get kicks . . . I hadn't had this much fun in six months.  
  
Furiously, she wrote 'Yes' under her earlier message. He was breathing fully hard now. I laughed, relishing his alarm.  
  
I shoved the gun right by his face, and his pupils went so tiny, it was abnormal. My God, the living react so badly, don't they now?  
  
'I will see you in hell, Bryce,' Heather said with such bitter coldness, that even I got a shiver.  
  
'Please! No, I'm sorry, Heather, I -'  
  
Oops. My finger accidentally slipped onto the trigger. Really it did . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** *******************************  
  
A/N: Cliffie? I usually suck at them . . . Well, I'm sorry to waste such a hottie, but it had to off him. Life sucks, doesn't it?  
  
Oooh . . .I just had an idea. Okay, so Bryce is kinda dead, you realize. Should he come back as a ghost? I want opinions!  
  
Okay, REVIEW NOW, and tell me what you think.  
  
I'm so evil . . . 


	7. Stalked

People, I am SO SORRY that this is so long. I just couldn't stop! Please, you all know I talk too much as it is, but still read it. New developments are amidst this installment . . .  
  
Thank you all so very much for reviewing previous chapters, I love feeling loved. :) And for all the questions you have, I'll do my best to work them all in, rather than answer them bluntly outside the story. And I'm happy! I've just come up with an end for my story! I got my inspiration at a carnival! Yay . . . Well, it might be for another story, but we will see where the river of dreams flows . . .  
  
...I suck.  
  
# Enjoy! #  
  
***************************************************************************  
  
Ah, Saturday . . . The one thing no girl can live without, alongside clothes, cosmetics, basic skills in tae kwon do and a love life . . .  
  
Don't you just love waking up, really tired, and finding that you still have two hours sleep to go? I mean, it was eight. I totally planned on rise- and-shining at ten.  
  
I closed my eyes again, and sank further into my pillow. Mmm . . .  
  
'Wake up, li'l Susie, wake up li'l Susie. The movie wasn't so hot, Yeah it didn't have much of a plot, We fell asleep, something or other, And our reputation is shot, Wake up li'l Susie, wake up li'l Susie, We gotta go home . . .'  
  
'Paul, piss off, I'm sleeping,' I snapped. He was playing with my hair again, plaiting it or something. Now, even though, to my bewilderment, he had a somewhat nice singing voice, I SERIOUSLY HATE THAT SONG! So, he was sailing through dangerous water here . . .  
  
'I told your mumma that we'd be in by ten. Well Susie, baby, looks like we goofed again. Wake up li'l Susie, wake up li'l Susie, We gotta go home . . . '  
  
Now I was miffed.  
  
'I. Am. Going. To. KILL YOU!' I exploded, opened my eyes, and dived at him. I must have taken him by surprise, because he totally wasn't expecting a tackle like that. I pinned him down on the floor, and kneeled on him, grabbing a handful of his shirt and holding it tightly in my balled fist. He looked startled.  
  
'Now, understand this, Paul,' I said intensely, glaring down at him, 'I'm tired. I still have slight jet lag, and I'm not in a very jolly mood with you all together, so, if you ever, I repeat, EVER wake me up with that despicable song again, I'll take away your reason for saying "Boo!" Do we have an understanding?'  
  
He just, to my vexation, smirked. I twisted his shirt further, constricting his neck, but I'd forgotten to keep his hands out of action. He grabbed me around the waist and flipped us over, so he was leaning over me. Hey! This was not dignified!  
  
'Perfectly,' he smiled, showing his perfect set of teeth, the row I so desperately wanted to knock out. He stood up, and furiously, I went straight back to bed. But noooo, he had to come back over and play with my hair again.  
  
You know, I seriously wanted to decapitate him, but it did feel, you know, nice? Like when my mum used to do it when I was little . . . I turned over in my bed, and looked at him.  
  
'Why are you so perky this morning?' I asked him. I mean, what was with the freaky, ear-to-ear smile already? He reminded me of one of those clowns you hire for kids' parties, as if it was painted on, and he couldn't stop it. I mean, it looked fake. Or maybe it was just because he was happy for all the wrong reasons . . . I dunno.  
  
'Oh . . . nothing,' he said airily, and continued to twist a coil of my hair around his long index finger. I stared at him suspiciously, and he stared back at me, with eyes so glacial and intensely blue, it seemed as if millions of tiny microscopic shards of ice had formed his irises. I scowled and looked away. My head was still throbbing a bit . . .  
  
My head. The head ache . . .  
  
Last night!  
  
'Paul! Omigod! I just remembered, what the hell was with last night? Where did you take me again? Why -'  
  
'Whoa, slow down Susie,' he exclaimed, arching his thin dark eyebrows.  
  
I shot him a toxic stare. I mean, I hate it when I babble, but it's annoying when people notice it. I only babble when I'm nervous, you see.  
  
'Okay, Suze then,' he said with a wry smile. I couldn't be bothered repeating myself. I felt liked crap.  
  
'I hope you're proud of yourself,' I muttered grumpily, rubbing my eyes, 'You've successfully ruined my Saturday. Congratulations, really.'  
  
Then, with his strong hand, he made me sit forward, as he climbed on my bed. Huh? What? What was he doing? He plonked his butt behind me, sat cross- legged, propped my pillow on his lap, and then pulled me back so I was leaning against him. Er, this was awkward . . . but comfortable.  
  
'Uh, and that was for?' I asked, as he began to play with my hair again, gently netting his fingers messily through my long tresses.  
  
'Because I felt like it,' he said simply. Well, no arguments there. It was a free country. And it was also very cozy . . .  
  
I shut my eyes again, as Paul pulled the blanket up for me.  
  
I couldn't explain why my emotions toward him kept changing so quickly. I mean, now, I felt as though I didn't loathe him. I almost felt as if I . . . liked him.  
  
Almost.  
  
I was feeling really rested, but alert at the same time. I didn't want him to make me "shift" or whatever again. No, Suze Simon got used once. She's not going to let it happen again.  
  
Well, I wasn't doing a very good job. I was almost asleep by then, when a heaven-sent voice rang out, 'Suze, phone!'  
  
I jerked up, ripped back my bed covers, and ran out the room without a last look at Paul Slater.  
  
~*~  
  
'So you can come?' CeeCee gabbled from the other end of the line. I held the receiver close to my ear.  
  
I paused. 'Probably, I'll check . . . ' I covered the mouth piece, 'MUM! CAN I GO TO THE BEACH?'  
  
Her reply came from up in her room. 'Sure, honey. Be back by five, we're having an early dinner so your step-father and I can make it to a movie, okay?'  
  
'THANKS!' I yelled, grinning. 'CeeCee, she said-'  
  
'I heard,' she snapped. 'Jeez, Simon, you've busted my eardrums for sure this time.'  
  
I made a face, but then realized that she couldn't see me. 'Whatever, Spider.'  
  
'DON'T CALL ME THAT!!!' she thundered. I held the phone a foot away from my head.  
  
'Uh, ow? Now I'm the one who needs ear reconstruction,' I snapped, but in a good-humoured way. She hates it when me and Adam call her Spider, on account of her last name being "Webb." But yeah, it's all fun.  
  
'Okay, get you illegally great butt down to the beach in ten then,' she said, a little irritably, 'Adam and I'll meet you.'  
  
~*~  
  
'Where do you think you're going, Susie?' drawled Paul, as I was leafing through my underwear draw for a nice bikini. I was sick of my brown ones, they were fully gross now, and I'd been using my stripy red and yellow ones for showering due to the fact that Paul was psychotic AND perverted.  
  
'Oh, I wonder,' I said sarcastically, not looking at him. 'The North Pole, really. In a bikini, Paul.'  
  
I grabbed and handful, and through them on the bed, trying to decide which one. The green ones? The swirly purple and pink ones? The blue hand-knitted ones? Or the black ones with white piping?  
  
'I like the black ones,' Paul offered.  
  
'Whatever, Goth boy,' I said, and grabbed them. I went into my bathroom, and firmly wrapped a towel around me, slid my boxers off, and pulled on the bikini bottoms. I basically did the same for the top.  
  
See? See what I have to go through to remain unseen? It's an outrage, it's illegal!  
  
It's...! It's not that bad . . .  
  
Jesus, what is WRONG with me?  
  
A lot. Oh, a lot . . .  
  
I emerged from the bathroom, looking very nice, if I do say so myself. Well, Paul certainly approved, by the way he was eyeing me. Er . . . right.  
  
'I've still got the touch,' he said, looking at me hungrily. I grimaced at him. I guess it was wise to evacuate ASAP.  
  
~*~  
  
'Suze, you look mad!' complimented Adam. I smiled, and shoved my towel at his face. He laughed, and tickled me, until CeeCee came over, and smacked him really hard over the head.  
  
With Adam groaning, and muttering something about anger management, we walked over to a nice clean are of sand, and set down our beach towels and snacks. I helped CeeCee set up her umbrella so she wouldn't get burnt from the sun, her being albino and all. While Adam went -or attempted - surfing - and failing direly - CeeCee and I lay on our towels, chatting. CeeCee's bikini was a gorgeous violet colour that totally matched her eyes. The ocean was a deep cerulean blue today, with the sun high in the sky, beating down. The sky was totally clear, too. The beach was scattered with people, all looking either very tanned, or very pale, in need of tanning.  
  
I loved spending time with friends. But there's something that can really get on my nerves. And that's when I see certain people wandering around aimlessly. Certain people in the spectral category. There was this tall, blond guy, drifting in between sunbathing people, looking lost and dejected. I lifted up my sunnies, but he was still there, with his little aura around him. Rolling my eyes, I got up and went over to talk, but he dematerialized! Not because I was going over, but well, I dunno. He just did.  
  
How infuriating was that? Well, he so couldn't blame me for not helping him, could he.  
  
I went along the shore, and kicked the water, so heaps of little droplets flew up, before descending again. The beads of water looked like crystal marbles, reflecting the sun and the sea. I love splashing.  
  
'Er, Suze? What was the point of that?' asked CeeCee, as I went back over.  
  
I shrugged. 'Nothing. I just needed to, uh, get wet, is all.'  
  
She raised her eyebrows at me. 'Whatever, Simon.'  
  
~*~  
  
After four and a half hours at the beach, we decided to go bum around my house. So, with sand-caked feet and dark skin - well, not CeeCee, who was as pearly white as ever - we tramped back to my place of residence. Me and Adam had to take turns holding the umbrella for CeeCee, who still couldn't be exposed to sun, due to her sensitive skin.  
  
'What we do for you,' grumbled Adam on his turn.  
  
'What are friends for?' chirped CeeCee cheerfully.  
  
'Well, in your case, strictly for homework purposes,' he replied testily. 'My arms ACHE!'  
  
When we finally got to my house, I let Adam use the normal bathroom to shower off and get changed, while CeeCee and I went up to my room to rinse the sand off. But as I got to my bedroom door, the first thing I heard was running water . . .  
  
CeeCee's POV  
  
I followed Suze into her room. It was weird, because I thought she didn't usually let her brothers shower in her room. Because, there certainly was someone in there now. I could hear it. Suze gently opened her bathroom door, and I tried to peak behind her, but she brushed me off. What? I wasn't trying to perv on Brad or Jake or anything, and definitely not the other on, David, but I was curious, ok?  
  
When I saw Suze's eyes bulge, I automatically assumed it was David. I mean, she looked panicking.  
  
'What?' I asked, grinning, and pushed her out of the way.  
  
But what I saw . . . oh my God.  
  
The shower curtain was to the side and all, and I could totally see the water running, but there was no one in the shower. But . . . there was. The way the water was running, it looked like it was running down a body.  
  
'Suze?' I sang, way freaked, 'What's that?!'  
  
Suze was sitting on her bed, looking disgusted.  
  
I turned back, and the water had stopped. But there were still drips falling off some invisible body. WHAT WAS GOING ON?!  
  
But when wet, slippery footsteps came splashing towards me, I guess I passed out . . .  
  
Suze's POV.  
  
'What the hell is your problem?!' I yelled, and hauled CeeCee over to my bed. There was sand all over her, and mum would kill me, but I wasn't really concerned about that now, you know?  
  
Paul shrugged. He had one of MY towels wrapped around him lower half. I swear, I was going to burn it . . .  
  
'What?' he asked, 'I needed a shower.'  
  
'B - But . . . B-' I spluttered, 'YOU CAN'T EVEN FEEL IT!'  
  
He looked nonchalant. 'So? I can remember it.'  
  
I felt like I was going to explode! 'But CeeCee SAW YOU!'  
  
He laughed. That's right. He just laughed at the fact that my secret had almost been exposed.  
  
'Well, she's not going to remember it,' he informed me. 'Just tell her it was all a dream or some shit like that.'  
  
I looked worriedly at CeeCee, and then back at him. 'That won't work. You don't know CeeCee.'  
  
He looked down at her, and raised his eyebrows. 'She albino, or something?'  
  
'No shit, Sherlock,' I snarled, 'Now get your clothes back on, you're making me nauseous . . .'  
  
'No, I'm quite comfortable,' he said, and gave a huge, fake stretch.  
  
'Frankly, I don't give a damn,' I said. I know, way "Gone With the Wind," but still. 'Look, just watch her. I need to get this sand off me. I mean, it's everywhere . . . If she wakes, give me a yell. It's not like anyone will hear you,' I added nastily.  
  
'Well, you give me a yell if you need a hand getting all that sand off you. Because my hand is glad to help. Hey, screw the hand, I'll go headfirst,' he smirked.  
  
He did not just say that . . .  
  
'Paul? Grow up,' I said, rolling my eyes, and going into the bathroom.  
  
I turned on the taps and stood under the hot water for about five minutes, when Paul called, 'Suze. Snow White is waking up, minus the kiss from Prince Charming.'  
  
'That's Sleeping Beauty, you idiot,' I called, turning the taps off.  
  
'Yeah, well, Sleeping Beauty wasn't albino, was she.'  
  
God, how racist can you get? I glared into space, as I dried myself with a DIFFERENT towel. I was SO scarred for life. I mean, Paul Slater in the buff? Those mental pictures would never fade . . . And don't get excited, I only saw the butt. Nothing frontal. I mean, sure, his butt was nice and all, but this is PAUL SLATER we are discussing here.  
  
'Suze? Who are you talking to? What's Sleeping Beauty?' called CeeCee groggily. I slipped into a dirty denim miniskirt and a black halter-neck, and exited the bathroom. CeeCee was lying on my bed, with Paul in the corner of my room, looking bored. Well, at least he was fully clothed now.  
  
Shudder . . .  
  
'She's your friend?' Paul scoffed. 'I thought you'd hang with more the skank type. Not that you are one,' he added. I glared at him, but I couldn't retort, because CeeCee was present.  
  
CeeCee looked perplexed, poor thing. 'Suze, I think I need an aspirin,' she groaned. Then, to top it all off, Adam swaggered in, looking a lot fresher.  
  
'Hello ladies,' he grinned, and flopped down next to CeeCee on my bed. I saw Paul glare at him, and look him up and down. Eyeing the competition? Ha, whatever, Adam was just a friend. Paul, however, thought otherwise. He walked closer to him.  
  
'Who's he? Another friend?' he asked corrosively. I nodded discretely. 'Just . . . a friend?' Again, I nodded angrily. Paul continued to glare. 'You never let me sit on your bed . . .'  
  
'No, Suze, what happened?' CeeCee demanded of me. 'I remember seeing-'  
  
'Look, Adam, can you go ask my mum for an aspirin?' I asked in a high voice. Adam, looked put out. 'But I just got here-'  
  
'Now,' I said dangerously.  
  
He made a face. 'Okay, okay, don't get your panties in a knot . . . ' he groaned and left.  
  
Paul looked scandalized. 'Hey! I'm the only one that's allowed to think about your panties!'  
  
I scowled at him.  
  
CeeCee glowered. 'Why did I fall asleep?' she asked.  
  
'You didn't. You, ah . . . '  
  
'Banged your head?' Paul suggested.  
  
'Banged you head!' I said quickly, sending him a brief "thank you" look.  
  
She nodded slowly. 'I don't have a concussion, do I?' she asked anxiously.  
  
'No,' I said firmly. 'Just, stay lying d-'  
  
'Suze!' she screamed, 'What's that?!'  
  
I turned, and to my fury, I saw that Paul had picked up a photo of me and my mum when I was about six. It would have appeared to be floating in the air to CeeCee. Oh shit . . .  
  
'You look cute in this picture,' he commented lightly, thumbing my young face.  
  
I could have exorcised him there and then, I swear it! I quickly stood in front of it, and said, 'I think maybe you do have a concussion, CeeCee. Sleep.'  
  
She frowned. 'Sleep is good,' she said, and settled down on my bed.  
  
I bit the inside of my cheeks to stop myself from detonating. This was totally uncool. If Paul even thought that he was going to reveal my secret ability to my friends, well, he had another damned thing coming . . .  
  
I expressed my umbrage at his antics by smartly slapping his face. He seemed to find it funny, but promptly dematerialized.  
  
Adam stumbled back in. 'Aspirin?' he said, throwing me two little capsules. I put them on my bedside table for when CeeCee woke up. He clumsily put a half filled glass of water beside them, and judging by the water that was down his front, he'd either not dried himself properly after his shower or he'd run up the stairs. I'd wager on the latter.  
  
He made a face at me. 'Why's CeeCee out cold? If you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen. What, did she fail her Computer Studies Course or something?'  
  
I smiled. CeeCee would be prone to fainting if she received an F, or even a C, in Computer. She was somewhat a nerd at it. Don't think I'm dissing her or anything. I'd never diss CeeCee. She's one of my best friends. But I guess it's annoying that my IQ times two wouldn't equal Adam's . . . let alone hers.  
  
Adam was talking about something that had happened in his last Chemistry class with CeeCee, but I wasn't listening. It sounded funny, but I was deep in thought about how I was, well, a bit envious of CeeCee. Oh, a bit jealous even. I mean, she didn't even believe in ghosts. It must be so nice to have that luxury. Sure, she was albino, but she was a really gorgeous one. It just made her unique. I was even a bit annoyed at Adam on her behalf, for never knowing about her crush on him.  
  
He was still talking! 'So I breathed in some of the helium, and then I sang that song from The Sweetest Thing, and she-'  
  
'Adam, for God's sake!' I snapped.  
  
He stopped short. 'Huh? What's up with you?'  
  
'You two are so annoying!' I said with exasperation.  
  
He blinked. 'Er, we kind of know that, but I don't know how CeeCee could be annoying you at the moment, seeing how she is comatose and all-'  
  
'Oh, never mind,' I said.  
  
He just stared at me in bewilderment. God, it was so tempting to tell him about how CeeCee felt about him, but that would be betraying her trust.  
  
'Suze, I'm sorry if I-'  
  
But I was spared his reaction to my close revelations of CeeCee's emotions towards him, by the bellowing of my mother.  
  
'Suze! PHONE!' she yelled.  
  
Huh? Adam and CeeCee were here. Who'd be calling me? Surely not Gina . . .  
  
I threw Adam an apologetic look, and burst out from my room. I got downstairs, and snatched the phone from my mother.  
  
'Hello?' I said uncertainly into the receiver.  
  
'Susannah! I'm so glad you're home! Oh, this is an emergency, I need you to get down to the mission as soon as possible-'  
  
'Uh, Father D, it's a weekend. It would look REALLY bad if I went to school on a Saturday, you know,' I informed him.  
  
He sighed in frustration. 'This is nothing to do with school! Last night, there was a- oh, I can't tell you over the phone, please come quickly!'  
  
This was really weird . . . 'Okay, okay, cool it. I'm coming . . . '  
  
~*~  
  
I got mum to get Jake into driving me over. I told her to send Adam home when CeeCee woke up. Hey, it was an odd situation for me too, you know. But I was standing out the front of the rectory in my mini and my halter-neck, waiting for the principal of my school. Oh, on a Saturday. Yes, the fact that we were meeting to discuss ghosts has been struck from the record.  
  
I knocked, and finally he answered, and led me worriedly to his office in the school.  
  
'Okay, Father Dom, what's this about? I'm confused. Mum's already asking questions about why I'm here, I mean, I have no reason to be at school on the weekend that she knows of. You are going to completely blow my cover. I've been trying to keep it a secret from her since-'  
  
'Susannah, I don't know what you're saying, you're talking too fast for an old man like me, but you must understand that this is grave, otherwise, I would not have called you here out of school hours. Now, take a seat, I need to show you something.'  
  
I sat in the chair opposite his desk. He sat behind it, dug into his drawers, and extracted a newspaper from them. He flicked through a couple of pages. Oh great, who's guessing "Susannah Simon has been found to be able to communicate with the dead. Call her, she charges hourly."?  
  
Just my luck . . .  
  
'You better not have spilt the beans on me, Father Dom,' I said with annoyance, 'Because if you have, by God, you can-'  
  
'Of course not . . . and don't use God's name in vain,' he added in disapproval. 'For goodness sake, I can' find this page.'  
  
'Well, if it was important, why isn't it on the front?' I tested.  
  
'Because it happened in New York, and isn't immediate to us,' he replied promptly, ruffling thought the paper noisily.  
  
Well fine then . . .  
  
'Ah . . .' he said in triumph, and laid the paper flat on his clean, really religious looking desk, what with it's crucifixes and miniature statues of Mary and all these other big wig saints. I went around the other side of his desk, and craned over his shoulder. I wonder why he couldn't find the article. I mean, er, it was only page two.  
  
Priests . . .  
  
The words, "MYSTERIOUS NEW YORK HOMICIDE" bugged out at me from the page. Oooh, catchy . . . Next to this average looking article was a picture of some ambulance people taking two covered bodies on stretchers into an ambulance, with police lights in mid flash in the background, and below were some people crying, and finally, down the bottom, was a school photo of some dude. He was wearing a navy blue school jacket, so he looked like he came from a private school. But yeah. The guy looked strangely familiar, too.  
  
Hang on.  
  
Didn't CeeCee tell me that on photo day, we have to wear jackets? She SHOWED me hers. And it was exactly like that . . .  
  
'Father Dom!' I said, 'Did he go to our school?!'  
  
He turned his head at me, a slightly disbelieving expression on his old face. 'Please don't tell me that, in all that time, you haven't read the article yet Susannah?'  
  
'Okay,' I said, 'I won't.'  
  
He sighed. 'I will read it to you then. Go sit back down.'  
  
I did, but stuck my tongue out at him behind his back. I know, God would probably zap me with lightning for it later in life, but I'll risk it.  
  
(A/N: Okay, excuse any mistakes I've made in either article writing or just known facts about NY, I'm from the Sunburnt Country, remember?)  
  
He pushed his glasses up his nose, and smoothed down the paper unnecessarily again. 'Now listen to this . . . "Seventeen-year-old Bryce Martinsen, and thirty-eight year old Arnold Douglas, were found dead in the Le Grande Hotel, New York. Both suffered bullet wounds. Martinsen's family members are devastated, and are unavailable for comment, and Douglas's relatives cannot be contacted yet. NYPD believes that Martinsen's murder was intentional, and that Douglas impeded the killer. "In Martinsen's hotel room, a strange smudge of lipstick was found on the wall that is being tested for any DNA that will lead to the killer but below that was written "Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, Sugar is Sweet but Revenge is Too" also in lipstick. By this, NYPD suspected the killer to possibly be a former lover, but Martinsen's mother did divulge that his most recent girlfriend committed suicide, further leading police to suspect a relative of this woman. "But what is bothering NYPD the most is what Dr. Jane Pavlov told the media. 'It is clear that both men were shot, but what has us stumped is the fact that both bullets were somehow retrieved. It is possible to recover a bullet after fire, but how it was done so cleanly is remarkable. We know that neither bullets passed through the bodies entirely, so where they are now is unknown. The killer obviously didn't want us tracing them. But it is highly mysterious.' "It is highly mysterious. Police will be undergoing further investigations and hopefully, after autopsies, answers will arise. If anyone has any information on this case, please contact the NYPD as soon as possible."  
  
(A/N: So? Will I be a hot shot reporter, you think?)  
  
Father Dom stopped, and looked over at me expectantly.  
  
'Er, and that has to do with us, what?' I said.  
  
Okay, so what if I hadn't clicked yet?!  
  
He groaned. 'Susannah, didn't you know? Haven't you heard from your classmates? Yes, Bryce did go this school. I told him to transfer, because I was worried about his safety. His ex-girlfriend, the one who committed suicide, was Heather Chambers.'  
  
Holy shit!  
  
'What?!' I demanded. 'She killed him? And she got the bullets out? Oh my God!'  
  
'Don't use the Lord's name in vain,' he snapped again. 'And it certainly appears so. I made Bryce transfer before I knew you were a mediator. If I had have known what you were, I would have made him stay, as to keep a closer eye on him while we dealt with Heather. I thought if we sent him away, he would be safe. Heather blames him for her unfortunate death. But alas, it wasn't enough. Heather found him last night, and shot him.'  
  
I was so pissed off! I mean, I thought that I was handling her okay. I mean, I was going to get around to talking with her, honest. I-  
  
'Father Dom?' I asked, shocked. Father D was looking really, really guilty. 'Hey,' I said gently. 'It's not your fault. Heather's just really angry, okay? You couldn't stop it.' He didn't look very convinced. 'I bet if you had have kept him here, it would have turned out exactly the same, only sooner. It's not your fault, so don't feel responsible for something that you couldn't change.'  
  
Poor guy . . .  
  
He stared at me, and then nodded. 'You are right. We had best get her to move on into her afterlife before she attacks anyone else. I'm worried that you might be a target, Susannah, so you must be careful.'  
  
'Yeah, whatever,' I said. 'So, what are we going to do? Exorcise her?'  
  
'Oh, may God have mercy!' he said in slight outrage, 'Exorcisms are not the answer, Susannah! Gentle negotiation and rational persuasion are the way to go. You cannot just-'  
  
'Yo, Father D,' I smirked, 'Don't use God's name in vain.'  
  
He stopped, looking very shocked, but redeemed himself by doing a lightning sign of the cross. Let's just hope He saw ya, Father Dom . . . Don't want any marks against your name for heaven now . . .  
  
He still looked a little perturbed, but I couldn't be any more sympathetic that what I'd been. He put his head in his hands. My eyes wandered back to the article about poor Bryce. I looked at his school photo.  
  
WHOA!  
  
My mind flashed back to earlier that day . . .  
  
*. . . There was this tall, blond incredibly hot guy, drifting in between sunbathing people, looking lost and dejected. I lifted up my sunnies, but he was still there, with his little aura around him. Rolling my eyes, I got up and went over to talk, but he dematerialized . . . *  
  
Oh my God . . .  
  
'I saw him,' I said, stunned.  
  
Father Dom looked up. 'Pardon?'  
  
'I saw him,' I repeated, 'Bryce Martinsen. At the beach. As in today. As a ghost?'  
  
His face changed totally. 'What? What did he say? Did he tell you who shot him? Did he-'  
  
'Yo, don't get excited,' I butted in, pouting, 'He dematerialized before I could talk to him. And I didn't even know who he was by the, remember?'  
  
He slackened again in disappointment. 'Oh. I suppose you didn't. Well, having heard what you recommend we do already, I won't ask you. I'm not sure how we are going to go about this, so we have to go about this very carefully.'  
  
'Yeah, yeah,' I said vaguely, twisting my hair around my finger.  
  
'Susannah,' he warned, 'I'm being perfectly serious here. I am asking you not to do anything that will result in an exorcism, or anything horrid like that.'  
  
'Uh huh,' I said casually. 'Got ya. No exorcisms, what not.'  
  
He relaxed, but not completely. I knew he didn't trust me on this. 'But something has to be done about Heather . . . '  
  
'Yeah,' I agreed, 'Something does need to be done about her, the skank. She's gone too far . . .' I looked at Bryce Martinsen's photo again. 'I mean, damn, this guy was hot!'  
  
(A/N: Well, at least Suze is prioritizing . . . )  
  
~*~  
  
It was about half seven or something before I left Father Dom's office at the Mission academy. And man, it gets dark here. Or at least, that night it did. I swear, there must be some cult against me, for all these bad things to be happening. I bet someone purposely PUT Paul in my bedroom, just to annoy me. And someone MADE Heather commit suicide, so it resulted in this whole annoying thing with her murdering hot ex-boyfriends.  
  
But yeah. Father Dom offered to drive and all, but I'd declined, reminding him I was a big girl, and could fend for myself, despite stupid blond ghosts who went around killing innocent hotel employees just to get back at ex-boyfriends whom said dumb ghosts commit hara-kiri for were on the loose.  
  
Okay, long sentence . . . But whatever.  
  
And that thing about "No exorcisms, I promise" thing? I guarantee, that will soon be forgotten. I know it's bad to lie and all. And to a priest, no less. But some things have to be done. Heather has to be stopped. And if an exorcism was the only way, then an exorcism was going to take place.  
  
Sorry Dommy . . .  
  
So, I was walking alone. In the dark. I was cool. The amount of time I'd spent on my own in scary, dingy places was phenomenal. I'm serious. Not to brag, or anything . . .  
  
And anyway, Carmel is nothing like Brooklyn. It was considered safe to walk around without getting attacked or whatever here. Well, by the alive, anyhow.  
  
And furthermore, is there anyone that Suze Simon can't take? Huh?  
  
. . . Okay, okay, don't answer that . . . I know you're all their, having coughing fits, with the word "Paul" mysteriously popping up during said coughing fits.  
  
But yeah, give me credit, I'm pretty scary . . .  
  
Yeah, so you get me. I walked down the dark street, listening to the gentle clicking of crickets, the beating of my heart, the pounding of my own footsteps, and the distant howling of dogs. It was like a percussion. Well, at least I hope those howls were from dogs. I would be pretty pissed if it turned out that werewolves existed, on top of the ghost thing.  
  
I mean, enough is enough! I'm no Buffy Summers; I'm not that versatile.  
  
My feet were echoing dully on the pavement. The street was bathed in a dim, cool blue light which didn't exhibit much of the street. Above, the moon was beaming down on me. Slowly, I remembered the frightening occurrences of the previous night, and found myself glaring into dark oblivion . . .  
  
By God, Paul Slater made me mad . . . And he was going to pay.  
  
Ha. To think that then, I was only had at him for making me shift. I had no idea yet . . .  
  
Bitter cool wind was playing across my face, my bare arms, and my legs. I was stating to get the squingiest bit nervous, you know? I mean, sure this was Carmel, but sickos could be anywhere, right?  
  
Anywhere. Like, in my bedroom. But I mean the breathing variety.  
  
Then, suddenly, I heard something that made my heart skip a beat.  
  
Footsteps.  
  
Behind me.  
  
Loud, and quick . . .  
  
I froze in my step, but didn't turn around. I strained my ears for them, but they'd stopped also. Instead, I shrugged and kept going . . .  
  
My forehead broke out into a light sweat. Okay, I needed to know who'd butt I was kicking in order for butts to be kicked. Surprise attacks don't work for me. This wasn't good . . .  
  
I wanted to just turn around and convince myself that there was no one there, but I couldn't. What If there was something that I didn't want to see? Ugh, don't you just hate anxiety? Something I could so do without. I mean, they suck!  
  
But yeah, I continued, and whaddoyaknow, the footsteps recommenced also. So I wasn't just imagining them. I kept going as if nothing was wrong.  
  
As if someone wasn't following me . . .  
  
But when those footsteps got faster, I freaked out. Okay, stay cool, Suze . . .  
  
I scanned ahead, and spotted a chunky tree with a nice, wide trunk just up ahead. That would do . . . I sprinted ahead, and dived behind that, waiting.  
  
No one stalks Suze Simon and lives to tell the tale, people . . .  
  
As the footsteps were about two meters away, I grinned and the fear vanished from within me. All the swarming, evil butterflies blew up and evaporated. I prepared for collision . . .  
  
WHAM!  
  
I heard a roar of outrage, as a dark figure staggered back and into the blaze of a bright streetlight.  
  
'Holy shit!' I yelled.  
  
It was . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ****  
  
I think I can cut it off about there . . . The faster you review, the faster another chappie will pop up! Love you all!  
  
Regards,  
  
Princess Roxanne. 


	8. Wild Horses

I was so tempted to change my whole story because of course, it's obvious who the prowler is. But that would mess up everything, so I'm remaining sadly predictable. Enjoy!  
  
**************************************************************************** ******  
  
It was . . .  
  
Er, Jesse De Silva?  
  
What the hell? Why was he following me in the dark?  
  
He straightened up, with a face of white-hot fire. 'Dios! What is wrong with you?!' he demanded in fury, holding his stomach where I'd kicked him.  
  
Oh my God . . .  
  
MAN, did I feel dumb. Oh, how embarrassing.  
  
I shook my head, not believing what I'd just done. 'I am so sorry!' I apologized, appalled with myself. He took an angry step closer.  
  
Gulp . . . I let out a tiny squeak.  
  
Jeez, why did he have to be so freaking tall?  
  
Hang on . . . I didn't have to apologize to HIM.  
  
'Excuse me?!' I yelled, getting a grip on myself, 'What is wrong with YOU? Why are you following me in the dark? Why didn't you call out my name, so I didn't have a near heart attack?!'  
  
He looked simply scandalized. 'I don't believe this! How was I supposed to know it was you? I mean, I though it was, but I wasn't certain. Any besides, what are YOU doing wandering around at night, Susannah?'  
  
I glared at him, and tossed my hair haughtily. 'For your information, Enrique, I was going straight home from school!'  
  
His eyebrows went sky-high. 'On a Saturday, querida?'  
  
This was outrageous! 'What I was doing is none of your beeswax!' I shouted furiously. 'And - And - DON'T CALL ME STUFF IN SPANISH!'  
  
'Hey!' yelled somebody from the house we were arguing in front of, 'Keep it down, would ya?'  
  
I blushed, and went to walk away from Jesse, but he grabbed my arm. 'No, I'm not finished with you -'  
  
'Well I'm done with you!' I said in a forceful whisper, yanking my arm away from him, but the guy was strong.  
  
Like Paul . . .  
  
Well, as far as I was concerned, they deserved each other.  
  
I mean, who the hell did this guy think he was? James Bond? He couldn't just go around following girls, yell at them, and then go grabbing their arms and stuff to prevent them from escaping! It was just not on!  
  
'Hey!' I said sharply - but quietly - to him, 'I'm not in the mood to be bossed around by some Spanish punk who doesn't even refer to me as Suze, so take a hike, dude!' Again, I tried retrieving my captured arm, but he wasn't letting go.  
  
'Susannah,' he said intensely. Jeez, the moonlight was making his face look really scary and murderous . . . With the blue reflection in his hair, and the spherical sapphire glint in his eyes? Yeah, not too reassuring. 'Why didn't you meet me after school yesterday? There were things that needed to be said.'  
  
I just looked at my arm expectantly, and finally, he removed his hand. 'Thanks,' I groused mordantly, and rubbed it. He folded his arms and fixed me with a black-eyed gaze, awaiting my explanation. If looks could kill, well, you wouldn't know any of this.  
  
'I, uh, had, er, prior commitments.'  
  
'Like?'  
  
'Um . . . detention,' I answered feebly, hiding my face with my hand a little.  
  
He snorted. 'I see . . . ' he grinned knowingly, opening his hand out. Okay, this officially wasn't fair. He was acting like he was some pompous prince of England or something.  
  
My eyes slid down to his chest, and I realized he was wearing a tight fitting dark green polo shirt. My God . . . prince was the word. Why did the bad guy always have to be so, well, yummy?  
  
Where is the justice in this world?  
  
I realized that I was staring. And not at his face, exclusively. I snapped my eyes back to his inky black ones, and sighed.  
  
Silence . . .  
  
Er, this was awkward.  
  
'Well then,' he said with a little sham cough, rescuing us both from eternal embarrassment, 'We can do it now if you like?'  
  
Huh? Do it? What was IT?!  
  
'Do it?' I said quickly, 'I hate doing it. I don't know what it you are referring to, but I can't do any its at the moment. I'm doing its elsewhere, so no its for me, nope, none -' I was cut off by he laughing.  
  
I blinked. Huh? Oh yeah, I was babbling wasn't I? See? Nerves. Hate 'em.  
  
'You think I'm funny, De Silva?' I asked coldly, with a pronounced bite in my tone.  
  
He touched his face, and his laughter died down slowly. He looked at me with humour dancing in his eyes.  
  
'I was merely suggesting that we can get together now, and I'll set it straight about what happened between me and P-' He broke off, and the hilarity vanished from his eyes immediately.  
  
'Paul. And why you killed him,' I added spitefully. I mean, it was because of this chap that Paulie was currently haunting my bedroom. I didn't owe him all that much . . . but he did owe me an explanation.  
  
'But . . . now?' I asked anxiously. Why now? Why couldn't he have been following me under the happy, smiling sun? We could have even grabbed a soda, for all I cared, but it was dark now, and all . . .  
  
He looked infuriatingly unbothered. 'Why not? It's only eight after all, Susannah.'  
  
'I - I - it's just, uh -' I stammered, avoiding his eye. I mean, I didn't feel all cozy about meeting up with Mr. Executioner, ya know? So, I was about to politely decline his invitation when I remembered . . .  
  
. . . who I was.  
  
*I'm Susannah Simon. I'm a Mediator. It is my job to lead spirits to their ultimate destination.*  
  
And refusing to go with Jesse De Silva would have meant that I wasn't aiding Paul to pass on. I mean, totally forgetting that Paul had no intention on moving. He was just too stupid to see what was best for him. Yeah, Suze knows best.  
  
It was my duty, my obligation to do all in my power to help a ghost pass on. I had to listen to Jesse De Silva's side of the story.  
  
DAMN MEDIATION!!!  
  
I sighed heavily. 'Whatever,' I shrugged. I didn't care. Stupid mediation was probably going to get me killed one day, so hey? Why not now?  
  
He smiled. Oh, it was a great smile. He had very nice teeth and all. Just . . . well, I wasn't too fond of him at the moment. He was probably smiling in strain, trying to decide whether to drown me and throw me in a river or hang me and make it look like a suicide.  
  
Oh joy.  
  
'So,' he said, and turned around to go the opposite way that I'd been previously traveling, 'How did you meet Paul?'  
  
I ran to catch up with him a little. 'I, uh, well -' What? I couldn't say he was living in my bedroom? That would have been to weird, because if Jesse knew Paul at all, he would have automatically assumed the worst, and would have labeled me as a skank. So what could I say? 'Er, he just came to me, like, uh, all ghosts do,' I said.  
  
Lame, Suze. Really lame . . .  
  
'And where is he now?' he asked.  
  
'No idea.'  
  
'Has he done anything to you?'  
  
'What do you mean?'  
  
'Has he done anything to you that you haven't liked?' he asked.  
  
'Um . . . '  
  
He stopped and looked at me sharply. 'Susannah, has he hurt you at all?'  
  
I blinked at him. 'Uh . . .' Then I got annoyed. 'Hey stop trying to be a knight in shining armour, Español boy. I can take care of myself. And no, he hasn't been around much. All he did was explode a bottle of nail polish, and that's it. He hasn't laid a finger on me, and that's very clever of him, because I don't take well to, er, fingers being laid on me.'  
  
I glanced savagely at him, and saw that he looked quite alarmed.  
  
'Do you always talk that fast?' he checked, and then laughed. I tossed my hair at him, and he continued walking.  
  
'Oh, shut up . . . ' I muttered, with a deadly glare.  
  
'I'm not laughing at you,' he said.  
  
'Oh, sure. "It's okay, Suze, I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing TOWARD you,"' I exclaimed animatedly. 'Big diff.'  
  
Again, he laughed, but this time I knew he wasn't mocking me. I smiled at him as we continued walking, but then wiped that smile firmly off my face.  
  
This is business, Suze.  
  
Yeah, but just why did business have to be so hot? And . . . sweet?  
  
STOP IT!  
  
I looked stubbornly ahead. What was he doing to me? I bet he was some all powerful mediator and was messing with my mind, making me believe that he was the good guy. He most certainly was not! Granted, neither was Paul, but still, Jesse had KILLED somebody. So Paul making the moves on me wasn't an issue. And if Jesse killed me, I'd die innocent. How depressing is that?!  
  
Okay, Suze, just don't talk to him.  
  
'Susannah?'  
  
'Yeah?'  
  
Oh, I suck.  
  
'We're here,' he replied. I stopped, and looked around.  
  
Oh my God . . .  
  
Hello mumma!  
  
Okay, I'm totally oblivious when it comes to cars. All I knew was that this car was smooth and nice, and shiny, and modern, and silver, and new, and VERY cool. And I could smell the leather interior from two meters away.  
  
'Wow . . . ' I breathed accidentally.  
  
He totally noticed. 'Yeah, she's great isn't she? She's a Cadilac. I just paid her off.'  
  
I raised my eyebrows. 'She?'  
  
'All machines are referred to as feminine,' he said, as if stating the obvious.  
  
I shrugged. 'Yeah, but it's stupid. I mean, the car is an it. It, not she or even he. I mean, it hasn't got, er, sexuality, or genitals, or stuff, so it's an -'  
  
'An it,' he finished, smirking broadly. 'Fair point.' But he still went on smirking.  
  
I wasn't trying to be funny. Why was he smirking?  
  
'Stop smirking,' I said.  
  
'Okay,' he said, and opened my door for me.  
  
'Still smirking,' I reminded him. What? He was freaking me out, okay?  
  
He sighed in irritation. 'Just get in, Susannah.'  
  
I narrowed my eyes at him. 'Where do you think you're taking me, screw boy?'  
  
I know, I know, I was being a right little brat, but hey. If he was going to off me like Paul, I wasn't going to make it easy for him.  
  
Hell NO!  
  
Jesse rolled his eyes dramatically. 'Chicas,' he muttered to himself. Damn Spanish language . . . who invented it? Stupid idiots . . .  
  
I sat in the passenger seat tetchily. He walked calmly around the back and slipped coolly into the driver's seat, and inserted the keys into the ignition. I looked ahead indifferently. Jeez, the things I do to get a ghost off my back.  
  
Well in Paul's case, off me entirely.  
  
But Jesse would never know that . . .  
  
I looked sideways at Jesse as he pulled out of the parking spot near the sidewalk. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something about Jesse that made him radiate with mysterious . . . well, perfection and decency. He just seemed so friendly and so great. I really didn't want to trust him, but I found that I couldn't help it. He seemed to honest not to earn my trust -  
  
*Things aren't always what they seem, Suze . . . *  
  
Damn.  
  
There was a tense silence. I was sitting alert in my seat, still catching fleeting peaks of his flawless side profile. He had the nicest nose I'd ever seen. For a guy that is. It wasn't hooked or bulbous or squashed or incredibly huge. Just nice. Paul had a lot to live up to. And Jesse's eyes . . . they were enchanting. The intensity of his irises was so beautiful. They were so, so dark . . .  
  
He turned his head at me, and I squeaked and looked away in shock.  
  
Could this get any more embarrassing?  
  
'Anyway,' I said shortly, 'Thanks.'  
  
'For what?'  
  
'For . . . you know, with Heather yesterday.'  
  
'For saving you?' he smiled, turning left.  
  
'You didn't save me,' I snapped, 'You aided me in a moment of confusion. Yeah.'  
  
'Basically? I saved you,' he said smugly.  
  
'No, you didn't!' I said in aggravation. 'I would have been fine without you.'  
  
'Oh,' he said dryly, 'Yes, I'm sure you would have.'  
  
He was so maddening! Jesus! 'Look! I know how to do my job, so just stop pretending to be some Wonder Boy of Mediation, De Silva!'  
  
I crossed my arms and sighed, glaring into space.  
  
'Well, is your head okay?' he asked.  
  
'What do you mean?' I said jerkily. 'Implying that I have brain damage, are we n-'  
  
'It was bleeding, don't you remember?' he answered.  
  
'Fine. I'm fine. Absolutely fine,' I snapped.  
  
'One more fine and I won't believe you,' he said with smiling eyes.  
  
Jerk.  
  
I didn't bother to answer. He didn't deserve the privilege of my response.  
  
Whoa, it was taking a while. I mean, it would have been a lot more comforting if there wasn't a vast expanse of trees outside. In the five minutes we'd been in the car, it was as if we'd left Carmel or something. I mean, Carmel ain't big, but we don't have long, dark country roads nearby that I know of. And being out here didn't exactly give me the warm fuzzies. I could just imagine him saying next, 'I'm taking you to a quiet place with no witnesses . . . '  
  
Oh, happy day.  
  
There was no sound, except for the smooth purring of the engine. I could hear the beating of my own heart louder than Jesse's breathing even. Out the front window, the lines on the road were snaking towards us, and disappearing beneath the car, and the trees on either side of the road leant in, trying to snatch at us and trap us forever in the forest.  
  
Whoa, Suze. Paranoid much?  
  
I shivered slightly, trying to keep my mind on my motivation . . .  
  
*If you tough this out, Suze, you can personally kick Paul's sorry ass into the fiery pits of hell. Wouldn't that me nice? Yeah, it'd also be nice if the world was Cadbury, but we don't always get what we want . . . *  
  
I see the glass as half full, I really do.  
  
Not.  
  
Let's just accept it. I'm a suicidal maniac.  
  
Then, the screech of the brakes told me that we'd reached our destination.  
  
'Sorry it took so long, Susannah,' he muttered, his Spanish accent dripping with sarcasm. I shot him a hopeful look - yeah, hopeful that he'd get kicked in the nuts.  
  
Ass . . .  
  
'Oh, that's fine. I was able to think of all the words that rhyme with "turd",' I smiled sweetly. 'Like bird . . . absurd . . . referred . . . Jesse . . . '  
  
He twitched, as if his hands were just itching to go around my neck. The feeling was mutual.  
  
Hey, so what if I couldn't help trusting him? I didn't have to LIKE it.  
  
He got out of the car, but I stayed where I was. 'Be a gentleman, De Silva, open the door for me?' I said wryly.  
  
He stopped, froze, and turned back around to face me, looking really annoyed. 'Of course, Lady,' he grumbled, and I beamed at him. Of course, I was kind of leaning on the armrest so when he cordially opened the door, I kind of, well, fell out of the car.  
  
Onto the dirty ground.  
  
Oh, how gracious of you, Suze!  
  
Really, way smooth . . .  
  
And if by the way Jesse totally cracked up was any indication, he thoroughly agreed that I needed social behaviour classes.  
  
'Oh shut up,' I said acidly, standing up and brushing the dirt off my skirt. Ew, that was so going to stain . . .  
  
When he didn't stop laughing, I got really annoyed. 'See? Getting back in the car? Driving home WITHOUT you?' I pointed out, sliding into the driver's seat and rattling the keys. His face blanched. 'Susannah, don't. This is important.'  
  
'Sure, sure,' I said under my breath. I got out of the car and tipped my head to the side, holding out my hand pretending it was a microphone. You know? My reporter imitation. 'So, matador, you have a girl who knows your secret, alone in a bush. What are you going to do next? Decapitate her? Set feral ghosts on her? Because, you know, she could so deal with them, she is very capable -'  
  
'Susannah, we are not out in the bush,' he corrected.  
  
I broke off. 'Huh? We're not? Well, I see lots of bush in front of me and behind m -'  
  
Wow . . .  
  
As I turned around, I saw, about thirty meters away was the most beautiful house I'd ever seen! I mean, it wasn't quite a mansion or anything, but it was big enough! I gasped in amazement. There were four black pillars out the front that extended high up both storeys to the balcony, which curved out, and enhanced with black railing. There were many different layers on the roof, if you know what I mean, which was black. The doors and window frames were also black. Everything else was white.  
  
It was stunning!  
  
'Whoa,' I said blankly, 'Lifestyles of the rich and famous much?'  
  
He smirked. 'Yeah, it's agreeable.'  
  
'Agreeable? You haven't seen my joint, dude. My place is pissy in comparison to this,' I wheezed.  
  
Why'd he have to be rich too? WHY?!?!  
  
He shrugged. 'Well, I do have five sisters, you see.'  
  
I whistled. 'Jeez, bet your family has a big Maybelline subscription then.'  
  
He chuckled. 'I wouldn't know. I try not to get too involved with my sisters cosmetic products, ever since Cora and the twins held me down and gave me a make over.' He shuddered.  
  
I laughed. Pretty hard, too. I mean, the mental pictures of Jesse De Silva i9n lippy, eyeliner and blush was just too much. And add a pair of fishnets, high heels and a mini dress to that picture, well, you have your basic DIY drag queen.  
  
But that mental vision was just cruel. Jesse was NOT drag queen material. God no . . .  
  
He shrugged, and my laughter faded pleasantly. 'Yes, that information wasn't necessary . . . '  
  
Again, I burst into laughing. I think I was now getting anxious too. I mean, I was a while away from Carmel, and by the looks of things, his house was one of those country houses? You know the ones, with the big paddocks out back and stuff?  
  
Nobody would know where to look . . . Hey, maybe that neighbour that we pissed off earlier with our shouting would report Jesse. Maybe not . . .  
  
However you look at it, I was screwed. Unless, of course, Jesse wasn't a bad guy. But that was about as likely as Paul coming up to me, saying "Suze, I am very sorry for groping and sexually harassing you in the weeks we've known each other. I have found out that I am homosexual. Here Suze, meet Fred."  
  
Oh, brother . . .  
  
'Well,' I said, 'I'd really love to stay standing here - stationary - all night, but I really have to get h -' I began, going for the car again, but there he went with the grabby arm thing, and pulled me away from it.  
  
'Hey!' I shouted. 'Look, you haven't been at the Mission Academy for as long as I have - granted, that's only been three weeks - but I have a reputation for being one you don't mess with physically. So you might want to LAY OFF.'  
  
With that, I totally kicked his feet out from beneath him, so he fell to the ground so his jeans hopefully suffered the same fate as mine. I placed my Nike confined foot on his chest, and glared down at him. 'Ha ha . . . '  
  
He looked up at me, bewildered. 'Susannah, you have this illogical idea about me. You think I'm trying to harm you? I'm trying to protect you; that's why you need to know the truth about what happened with Paul Slater. If you don't know what he's capable of, then you are in danger.'  
  
I stared at him, at his eyes. They seemed so sincere. I stepped off of him, and moved away from him.  
  
'Well,' I said, now officially mistrustful, 'Tell me what you have to, and take me home. Or I'll walk home if you're worried about the petrol.'  
  
He got up, and brushed himself off. 'Well, now me and the earth have had time to bond,' he said evenly.  
  
I gave him a wobbly smile. 'I'm sorry . . . ' I said ruefully. 'It's just . . . taking someone's life, well, that's a big thing. Dealing with ghosts is different, they are already dead, and have suffered the ultimate pain, and are usually trying to hurt other people and stuff, so it's easy to come down hard on them. I just . . . I just couldn't imagine, well, killing someone.'  
  
He stuck his hands in his pockets. 'Well, you know how to rub it in, Susannah.'  
  
I blushed. 'Sorry . . . I'm not known for tact.'  
  
'Clearly,' he remarked, looking guiltier by the second. I bet this was all an act. Ha, well, Suze Simon isn't going to be tricked into believing some cock and bull story about accidental murders and stuff. Nope.  
  
'Follow me,' he said quietly.  
  
'Um - I really don't -'  
  
'Susannah,' he said, and came to stand right in front of me. I stared at the ground resolutely. Then . . . I felt his hand slide into mine. Oh, the effect his gentle hand had on me was magical . . . My senses melted when he touched me. I let out a small sigh, swallowed, and my startled eyes flickered up to his. And I knew. Deep down inside, I wasn't scared at all.  
  
'You can trust me,' he whispered into my hair, and squeezed my hand a little. His eyes twinkled under the marble-like moon that glowed down on us secretively. 'Now follow me . . . '  
  
I nodded. The wind was beginning to blow, murmuring through the trees and making them dance in a rhythmic spell. He pulled me by my hand into the trees, until we came to a building, which looked like a stable. Well, I hoped that all that neighing I was hearing was horses, you know? He released my hand. 'Stay here,' he said softly.  
  
Again, I nodded as he went inside. I was getting really cold now. I tried to shield my arms from the growing bitterness, but hey? I have small hands. I just felt so sleepy . . .  
  
Then, about two minutes later, he emerged -  
  
- With a tall, strong horse the shade of deepest midnight, wearing but a rein. I gasped.  
  
'Oh, Jesse, he's beautiful,' I said. 'Er, he is a guy and all, right?'  
  
He smiled warmly, sending all my shivers into oblivion, and ran his hand across its back. 'Yes, a stallion. His name is Zephyr.'  
  
'Zephyr,' I repeated in approval, 'Doesn't that mean "gentle wind" or something?'  
  
He nodded. 'That's right . . . querida . . . '  
  
And you know what? When he said it that time, I didn't mind so much . . .  
  
'Mount him,' he instructed me, cupping his hands against Zephyr's stomach, supposedly for me to stand on them.  
  
I stuttered something really stupid that not even I could understand, and decided to just shut up and obey. I really hoped that my gut instinct wasn't wrong about Jesse De Silva being as decent as he seemed. So, I gently held onto Zephyr's mane, and pulled myself up with Jesse's help.  
  
Whoa . . . sitting on Zephyr's back made me feel so, well, powerful, as if I could do anything.  
  
Then, a second later, Jesse joined me. He mounted Zephyr with such ease I recognized years of experience. I could feel Jesse's chest mould against my back, and his arms went around my shoulders as he grabbed the reins. But he stopped and put his hand on my arm.  
  
'Susannah, you are cold,' he said.  
  
I shrugged. 'Oh, you know, wasn't really anticipating being picked up by Jesse De Silva and going horse riding on a cold, windy night,' I said inelegantly. 'This kind of thing only happens - whoa!'  
  
Yeah, that was kind of when he kicked Zephyr's stomach gently and pulled the reins, spurring him on. I stopped talking, and just leant into Jesse. He seemed to know what he was doing.  
  
Jeez, Zephyr was fast. Like the wind - oh . . . zephyr, of course, duh. But yeah, he rode swiftly through the trees and then into a clearing, where Jesse stopped him. I looked up and saw that the sky was speckled with thousands of twinkling, silver stars again, but tonight, they seemed so, so much prettier than when I had been with Paul. I realized how close Jesse and I were, and even though I felt scared, it felt too right to back away now.  
  
'Susannah, now I'll tell you about Paul,' he breathed in my ear.  
  
'Okay, shoot,' I replied softly.  
  
He tugged the Zephyr's reins lightly and the majestic horse began to travel at a slow, relaxed walk. I soaked up the tranquillity of the night in a single, long and shuddering breath.  
  
He launched into his story - the truth . . .  
  
'Paul Slater and I grew up together. Our grandfathers were old friends. Paul's grandfather was a shifter, and mine, well, I don't know what mine was. He wasn't normal though. Paul and I were both shifters, and we matured through life, learning about our incredible powers, on top of the amazing gift to speak to the dead. I always had big idea that I would help people when I was young, ever since I helped a young girl called Alice when I was ten. She was only eight, and her mother had recently been killed in a car crash. Alice wasn't getting over it very well at all. Her family had been acquaintances of mine, and we were there for her family in their grief. No one suffered more than Alice, though. Her health was failing, and people thought she'd die of depression. So when Alice's mother came to me as a ghost, and asked me to tell her something important that would help her pass on, I said yes. She told me to tell Alice that she loved her with all her heart, and to never forget her, but to let go, and she said that she forgave her for knocking over the vase. I didn't know what it meant at the time, I just wanted to help. When I delivered this message to Alice, she broke down totally. I told her about the vase thing, and after spending an hour with her, Alice was fully convinced that I was telling the truth and that I wasn't teasing her. When she finally accepted it, oh, the look of her face was the most rewarding experience of her life. It urged me to continue helping people.' He paused.  
  
I didn't want to be rude, but I couldn't see where this was going. But yeah, he continued.  
  
'After that, I did everything I could to help ghosts move on. Some only sought to cause me trouble, and I had to deal with them more brusquely, but I always was able to aid them. Paul, of course, was with me through all of this. He helped me fight of ghosts when they attacked me, and advised me what to do for ghosts that he considered as "petty." He only liked the violent ghosts. He said they were fun. We had good times together, but after a while, his loyalty to me started to slip.'  
  
Ah, I was wondering when he was going to pop back in this . . .  
  
'My grandfather was killed when I was twelve. Mysterious circumstances, the police said. No one ever found out why. Paul started spending more and more time with his grandfather and less with me. And then, about a year ago, Paul completely got lost in the dark side of him. I noticed this when I was working on a group of young, innocent girls who had recently died in a freak accident at their school. I had finally discovered what was keeping them back, and had called to tell Paul about my breakthrough, and he laughed at me on the phone. He told me that I didn't need to worry about them any more. I asked him why. He said that they had come to talk to him, and . . . he'd exorcised them.'  
  
I gasped. 'No.'  
  
'Yes,' Jesse replied grimly. 'I asked him if he was out of his mind. And he said no. That he was just bored. Bored! I was furious with him. I told him to come to my house, so, well, I could ask him why he'd done such a thing. He came, looking careless as ever. It made me so mad, I didn't know what to do. He had been my friend since childhood, but he was ruining everything I believed in. In helping lost spirits, because no one deserves to live in limbo. But he told me there that he'd done more than just exorcise those girls. He'd tortured them first. He described to me exactly what he'd done to them, and how powerful he'd felt. He told me I could experience this power too, if I listened to him for once. He tried to persuade me to use my shifter powers for evil. He said he'd developed his well, and that we could seek greater things. I told him that he was sick, and I never wanted to see him again. And he left. After over fifteen years of knowing each other, he left. I didn't see him again, until a little over six months ago . . .'  
  
I held my breath. This was the part I needed to hear. The part I wanted to know for myself.  
  
Jesse stroked Zephyr's neck, but stopped very quickly, resuming . . .  
  
'Paul showed up in my room on night. Materialized, is the word. I was shocked to see him. I hadn't seen him for a year. His family had moved, and now he had shown up. He looked terrible. He was pale and he looked very . . . desperate.' Jesse sighed. 'Well, I told him to go away, and that his absence had been the best thing for the both of us. He told me to shut up, and he explained that he needed my help. He messed around with the wrong ghost. This ghost, Paul said, was in fact a demon, and had demanded that Paul give him mortal souls or he'd kill him. So, Paul sent all the ghosts to him, and the demon was satisfied for a while. But then the ghosts realized that they weren't being mediated when they went to him, so they stopped going. Eventually, none came, and the demon needed a life, not just ghosts. He went to take Paul's, but Paul ran, saying he'd get a better one. So he came to me. At first, it was only to ask for help. I turned him away, telling him that he deserved everything he got after tormenting innocent ghosts. Paul got angry with me, and tried to take me to this demon. We struggled, and he realized that he couldn't win against me. We'd both trained in fighting, and neither of us was better than the other. So, the fool ran through my house, and grabbed my youngest sister, Adrianna. I couldn't believe that he would do something so cruel as to offer my baby sister to a demon. As he went to dematerialize with her, I jumped at him. His destination was altered, and we all ended up in a vacant house. They say that it used to be a boarding house back in the eighteen hundreds . . . '  
  
Oh my God! He was talking about my house!  
  
'Paul said that I'd had my chance to see reason, and that it was nice knowing me. And then he drew a gun from his jacket, and shot a couple of bullets at me. But in our training, we'd learnt to dodge things like that. I was able to do so then. Adrianna was screaming. Paul was laughing, saying that I was an idiot for not listening to him. He said I'd join the category I loved to help so much. But he said that would happen after he killed Adrianna.'  
  
My mouth fell open. Oh my God . . .  
  
'He aimed the gun at her head, and she was crying so hard. I was terrified, not for my life, but for hers . . . '  
  
Jesse broke off, looking deeply disturbed by then. But a look of determination swept across his face. 'But as he was developing his powers for evil, I was still increasing my shifting powers. I am very skilled at controlling objects with my mind. All my practice paid off when I focused all my fury and fear onto that gun, rotated it, and shot Paul. In the head, I think. He died quickly. I got Adrianna out of there as quick as I could, and back to our house. You see, Susannah, where I come from, family is the most important thing there is. My sisters, all five of them, mean the world to me. Paul threatened my world, and he was punished for it. I don't know what happened to the demon, but he never came to me. I haven't seen Paul since any of this happened,' he concluded, staring far into the night sky.  
  
I blinked. My God . . . Jesse had been defending his sister when he'd killed Paul. So Paul was the cold-blooded killer!  
  
'You love your sisters that much?' I choked. There was a weird lump in my throat. Not to mention, my eyes were wet. See what the night air does to me? See . . . Oh, all right, I was touched. And so what? It was very a poignant story. So yeah yeah, I was crying. I'm allowed to cry when I see such a pure quality like that in someone.  
  
'Yes,' he replied, looking at me levelly.  
  
I shook my head at him. 'That's so . . . beautiful, Jesse.'  
  
I was totally taking a different point of view on this whole murderer thing, wasn't I?  
  
'Thank you,' he replied. And that's when his hand slipped over mine again. My heart stopped, and I turned around promptly. His fingers interlocked with mine, and he said to me, 'You're beautiful, querida . . . '  
  
I felt him kiss my neck ever so gently. It made my body respond in such a way I never thought possible. Very intense chemical reactions were occurring in my chest at the moment, so wonderful they almost hurt.  
  
'Jesse,' I gasped, 'I can't do this -'  
  
But with his hand, he fully turned my chin so I was facing him. His eyes were filled with something I'd never seen in them before. His arms wrapped tightly around me, and my neck was beginning to ache from being turned. I was breathing very fast now. What was he doing? What was I doing? Why did this seem so wrong, yet so, so right at the same time?  
  
. . . And he kissed me . . .  
  
I couldn't believe it. It didn't seem real. So unreal that it was a dream. No, not a dream! Paradise . . . This moment was ecstasy, eternal bliss, cloud nine. It felt as if Jesse was the only one I was ever meant to kiss. I'd drifted into heaven. He felt so perfect on my lips, and tasted so sweet. I pulled away, and smiled softly. He was breathing hard too, embracing me almost as tightly as I was holding onto him.  
  
'On second thought,' I said playfully, smiling mischievously, 'I think I can do this.' And we connected again. Rampant passion fueled this kiss to its ultimate level. I'd never ever felt this way before. The way Paul had tried to kiss me was a muddy sand castle compared to this Empire State Building.  
  
Hang on . . . Paul who?  
  
So me, Susannah Simon, and Jesse De Silva, were sitting on a beautiful black stallion, playing tonsil hockey.  
  
And we were both winning . . .  
  
I didn't want to admit it, but I knew. Oh, how I knew. I wasn't a big believer at love at first sight. Because this had taken a couple of looks.  
  
But we were there. We had found each other. We were - well, at least I was and I certainly hoped he was, because then I would have felt really dumb - in love.  
  
I mean, if that kiss meant what I think it meant.  
  
And I had a really good feeling it did.  
  
After another thirty seconds of the best thing that I'd ever experienced in my whole sixteen years, I stopped. I placed my finger on his lips, and smiled, looking up at the mystical sky.  
  
'Jesse, you'd better take me home now, it's getting late,' I said with such deep happiness, words cannot express.  
  
He smiled back at me, his dark eyes only half open. He looked very wistful and faraway. 'Fair enough. I mean, I have plenty of petrol, I don't think walking will be necessary.' He touched my cheek gently, and swept my hair behind my ear. Then he tugged the reins, and we rode back to his car.  
  
I felt so dazed. That had happened so fast, I was scared that I'd only imagined it. Oh if I had, someone was going to pay . . .  
  
Jesse took Zephyr back into the stable, and then he and I hopped in the car. I told him my street, and he began to drive. We didn't say a word, but our silence said everything. When we got to a street one away from mine, I suddenly said, 'Er, stop here, Jesse. I don't want mum to see me come home in a guy's Cadilac just yet.' It was for another reason too, of course; Paul. Jesse didn't know that I was living with him, and I didn't want him to. And Paul would blow a fuse if he found about me and Jesse meeting . . . and making out. But yeah.  
  
Jesse stopped the car. 'I understand,' he said. 'Goodnight, querida.' And of course, he leant over and gave me a very welcome good night kiss.  
  
'One thing,' he said, and sat back. It was good he'd stopped . . . any more, and I would have been tempted to lose the halter-neck and all. 'Uh, try not to tell anyone the truth about Paul. No body knows that I did that to him, and I know that I should take responsibility for my actions, but I don't want to be punished for a moment where I believed my family came before my desire to keep a, er, clean police record,' he said heavily.  
  
'Don't worry,' I said seriously, and sighed.  
  
'Wild horses couldn't drag it from me . . .'  
  
**************************************************************************** *****  
  
Your reading is appreciated. Please feel free to flame or flatter. Just review!! 


	9. Waste Not, Want Not

Okay, here's another one. Sorry I've taken so long. School's started again, and I've been really sick on top of that. But I got Friday (yesterday) off due to stomach cramps, and I managed to type while moaning in pain. So here it is . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** *****  
  
Still very dazed, I somehow made it back to my room. Not house, I say, room. Because, you know, I kind of slipped in through my window. I know, I'm a rebel and I'll never ever be any good, yeah yeah . . .  
  
I looked around fearfully, hoping against hope that Paul wasn't there. I mean, by what I had just heard from Jesse, Paul was a lot more dangerous that I'd ever dared to imagine.  
  
A lot more dangerous . . .  
  
Oh and psychotic killers always take a liking to me, why?!  
  
To my paramount relief, Paul was nowhere in sight. Good. Because I wasn't to keen in ever making eye contact with him again, let alone having him stay in my bedroom.  
  
Having made certain that Paul Had Left The Building, I collapsed on my bed, dizzy with happiness . . .  
  
I was in love.  
  
My life had meaning . . .  
  
. . . Snore . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ************  
  
Paul's POV.  
  
Okay, you know, it kind of pisses you off when you go out on a limb for someone to help them move on, and they DON'T. Nope. I totally killed Heather's ex, and she was still hanging around!  
  
This was NOT fair!  
  
Well, as I told Suze, I like to make the best of a bad situation. The very best.  
  
So that's how I ended up in bed with Heather again in my old bedroom. I mean, waste not, want not right? By the way, me going out on a limb? Er, that was kind of an overstatement. I mean, I had FUN. Pulling that trigger? That was one of the best moments of my life. The power and the absolute satisfaction I felt was way better than anything, even, well, sex. And trust me, sex is good.  
  
So good I was at it again.  
  
I know, but hey? I was desperate. Heather was just a quick solution, trust me, no more than that. I felt nothing for her. Nothing. I had fallen too bloody hard for Suze to even contemplate that nightmare. And Suze was killing me. Not physically, but because of how she wasn't letting me in . . .  
  
'Paul,' Heather wheezed from beneath me as I was kissing her neck, 'Oh, I love you so much.'  
  
I stopped. And yes, panicked too. 'What?' I said, alarmed. I pushed up from her, and glared.  
  
She gave me a wistful smile. 'I said I love you.'  
  
No, no, no, no, no, NO, NOOOO!!!!  
  
I fell off of her, and hastily began putting on my clothes.  
  
'Paulie Waulie?' she said, sounding confused, 'What's wrong?'  
  
'Just shut up,' I snapped at her. The stupid bitch . . . Stupid, skanky, dumb bitch . . . Love? No, I don't THINK so . . . She was way out of line . . . This was NOT FAIR!!!  
  
I turned to her as I was tugging on my top. 'Get out,' I growled.  
  
Her eyes went wide, and she clung her cardigan to her chest. 'But . . . why? Why, Paul? What is wrong with you? Don't you love me like I love you, or is it-'  
  
'No, I don't love you,' I spat. 'I hate you. Unfortunately for me, you happen to be very good at the thing I was craving the most, and that brought us together. That was it. And now you spring this love shit on me? Hello? You killed yourself because of a guy. You think you would have learned, Heather.' I threw her skirt at her and she recoiled. 'Now get out of my sight before I puke some chunky ghostly substance that I'm not sure even exists.'  
  
Her eyes welled up. 'But . . . what w-w-we had here? That m-meant n-n- nothing to you? I thought you . . . you . . . '  
  
I'll say it. I was disgusted. I truly was.  
  
'What, Heather?' I asked. 'Tell me what you thought. You thought I loved you?' I laughed hollowly, looking down at her. She nodded pitifully. 'That is the most SORRY thing I've ever been unlucky enough to hear.'  
  
She hastily scrambled into her skirt and her cardigan. 'P-Please, Paul,' she stuttered, her eyes overflowing with tears, 'G-g-give me an-n-nother chance? I'll do b-b-better, I swear! I'll do anything! Anything! I'd die for you!' she wailed, and threw herself at me. She clawed at my arms as I tried to push her off. Her usually pretty blond hung dirtily by her face, and her face was screwed up in anguish. But I didn't give a bloody two cents, did I? I was seriously starting to feel a heartfelt sympathy for Martinsen. I mean, how could he have lasted that long?  
  
'Uh huh,' I said. I rolled my eyes and threw her across the room. She brutally collided with the wall, and slid down, sniveling. Blood ran down her forehead.  
  
My God . . . She was just so hopelessly pathetic.  
  
'Sorry sweetheart,' I shrugged nastily, 'You can't die for me this time. You're already dead.'  
  
She screamed in wretchedness.  
  
'See you in hell. That's where they send those screwy idiots who commit suicide, isn't it?' I laughed at her. 'Because I sure as hell know I'm going there . . .'  
  
'You monster,' she sobbed, chewing on her fist as she tried not to cry.  
  
'Thanks. I work hard at it,' I smirked sinfully, and dematerialized, leaving her wounded and whimpering . . .  
  
~*~  
  
Suze's POV.  
  
'Suze! Phone!'  
  
My eyes snapped open, and I jumped out of bed, and stampeded down the stairs. In the kitchen, mum was clutching the receiver, looking bad- tempered. 'Oh, so you come that fast when there's a phone call, and yet you take so long to get up for school. I should get someone to call you every morning,' she sighed. 'And I'll deal with you later,' she added ominously, and handed me the phone.  
  
Uh oh. I guess my absence last night had not been neglected.  
  
Guiltily, I took the receiver from her.  
  
'Hello?' I said.  
  
'Oh, thank the Lord you are safe!' cried Father Dom's deep, wise voice from the other end.  
  
I blinked. 'Er, why him? What do you mean? How did you know -'  
  
'Susannah, what happened last night? I called your mother to make sure that you'd arrived home, but she said that you weren't there. Then she got worried. We were scared that someone had hurt you. I was so scared that you didn't make it home safely. I knew I should have drove you, you silly girl! Look what could have happened-'  
  
'Father Dom, babbling is my specialty,' I snapped. 'Look, I'm fine. Nothing happened last night. I just attended to my seriously disrupted schedule.'  
  
'Susannah, what are you talking about?' he asked angrily. Not angrily as in furious, just angry with me for being stupid. I get that a lot . . .  
  
'I just . . . had something I had to do,' I smiled, fondly remembering last night. 'Nothing special. Why did you have to go call my mum? She'll be on a war path now, thanks to you.'  
  
'Well, I apologize for caring about whether your alive,' he said with irritation, 'I needed to know that you were safe, Susannah. I was very worried when your mother said that you weren't back.'  
  
I groaned. 'Jeez. You old people. Well, wish me luck. I'm not going to be safe now, Father D. Mum's going to strangle me.'  
  
'But, Susannah, I-'  
  
I hung up.  
  
What? "Never hang up on a priest" isn't a commandment, right? So I was safe. Well, I hoped. I turned around slowly, and saw that my mother was glaring at me.  
  
Great. He really threw me in the deep end, huh?  
  
'Suze,' mum said, but I stopped her.  
  
'Look, if this is the bit where you say "I'm not angry, just disappointed," well I can skip that. I really can-'  
  
'No, Susie,' she said with a sigh. 'I am angry. And very worried. I thought that we came to Carmel to make a fresh start. You promised that you would try harder to be good. And now you're up to your old tricks again, aren't you? I can't believe that you would do that, I really can't. I am so disappointed in you.' I saw that she looked close to tears, and her hands were shaking a tiny bit. Okay . . .  
  
'So, what have you been up to?' she asked with a sniff. 'Have you been sneaking out to smoke? Jake mentioned last night that he caught you once-'  
  
'Jake?!' I said, bewildered.  
  
'Yes, Jake. He told me-'  
  
'Mum, Jake hasn't got a clue. Yes, he caught me smoking, but that was directly after your wedding. You know about that, remember? He even thinks I'm in a gang,' I laughed.  
  
She gave me a hard look. 'Are you?' she asked quietly.  
  
'Whoa!' I shouted, 'Mum! I'm not, okay? I swear it on dad's grave-'  
  
'Don't you bring that up,' she snapped, a tear rolling down her cheek. 'Susie, I don't know what's gotten in to you. You were going so well, honey. And then you just start sneaking out again-'  
  
'I didn't sneak out!' I retorted. 'I was still out, mum!'  
  
'What were you doing then?' she demanded, and angrily put her hands on her hips. 'Because I swear to God, Susannah, if it's drugs, I'll-' she broke off furiously.  
  
WHAT THE HELL?!  
  
I just stared at her. 'Mum, how can you say that?' I whispered, genuinely injured.  
  
She looked stubborn. 'I can say that,' she replied. 'It's hard, but I need to know. What is it that you keep going out for? What was it back in Brooklyn? Is it that important that it keeps you from me? You know that you can talk to me, don't you Suze?'  
  
Another tear spilt from her eyes.  
  
That hurt so bad. She didn't trust me . . . One mistake, and she didn't trust me.  
  
'I -'  
  
I couldn't tell her. About mediation, I mean. That would just be too weird for her, and she wouldn't believe me anyway. She'd send me to a psychiatrist again . . .  
  
'Mum,' I said slowly. 'Last night, I was out. At the park. I'm really sorry I worried you. I just needed . . . some alone time.'  
  
Her angry look faded. 'Oh, Susie,' she said. 'I'm so sorry . . . '  
  
I shook my head. 'No, I'm sorry. I should have called you from the school to let you know. I really should have. I'm an idiot. I just needed space to think about stuff.'  
  
'About what stuff, honey?' she asked, choking on her sobs, 'About . . . your father?'  
  
Huh? Er, okay . . . 'Maybe,' I replied, way weirded out by now.  
  
'Oh, Susie,' she said again, and gave me the biggest, deadliest bear hug ever.  
  
'Mum? Oxygen becoming an issue?' I said. She let go, and just looked at my face.  
  
'I love you, you know that?' she said sadly.  
  
'I kind of guessed that when you tried to devoid me of air,' I muttered dumbly. She laughed a little, and then walked out of the kitchen, leaving me wondering how insane I was.  
  
Okay, now that was freaky . . .  
  
Don't you just hate lying?  
  
I sighed, and tramped up to my room. Man, did I feel bad. I mean, hey, last night was a blast, but now that I knew what Paul was, well, I wasn't in the best mood possible. I fell back into bed, feeling very sulky. Maybe I was just depressed anyway for no reason. I dunno. It happens some times . . .  
  
I shut my eyes, and snuggled deeper under my covers. Oh, the warmth they had was blissful. Don't you just love it in the morning, when you feel so cozy and comfortable and warm? Well, I felt like that again. Ah . . .  
  
Right up until the covers were ripped off me.  
  
'Morning Suze,' Paul said cheerfully, clutching the quilt.  
  
I sat up, really annoyed. And now ever more scared of him than I had been before. Well, if he didn't know that, I'd be okay.  
  
'Get out,' I said, narrowing my eyes at him.  
  
He looked at a complete loss. 'What's wrong with you this morning?'  
  
My eyes went even thinner. 'I said get out, Paul.'  
  
He smirked. 'Oh, really,' he said defiantly. 'And what makes you think I'm ready to leave?' He dropped the bedcover and walked towards me. That's right . . . come closer, Paul. Come closer, so I can -  
  
'Ah!' he yelled as I turned, and kicked him in the stomach. I jumped off my bed, and punched him in the face. He grunted, and I kicked him in the shins. But as I was aiming a punch at his jaw, he caught my fist in his cupped hand, and twisted it. I gasped in pain, and he knocked me to the ground, where I bashed my head. Ow . . .  
  
No matter . . . I kicked his feet out from beneath him - I'm good at that, you see - and then leapt on him, and punched him in the face. Several times, too. What? He deserved it, right?  
  
I didn't dare say it out loud, but as I delivered those punches, I was thinking, "This? This is for Adrianna. And this one? This is for Jesse! And this?" I thought savagely as I readied my knee, "This is for me." Wham. Right in the . . . target.  
  
I saw his pupils minimize into the tiniest circles in pain. Good . . . But I had celebrated too quickly, because at that moment, he grabbed my shoulders and rolled us over. I panted, and kicked up, but he wasn't affected.  
  
'I'll ask you again,' Paul smirked, 'What makes you think I'm ready to leave, Suze? I really don't feel like it.'  
  
'You bastard,' I spat, shaking my head, 'You selfish b-' He slammed me against the floor again and I cried out in pain. But now I was really annoyed. I thumped the side of his head and he fell sideways. I scrambled up, as did he. God . . . He shoved me against the wall, and grabbed my wrists so I couldn't hit him, and he pressed himself against me so I couldn't use my legs either.  
  
'Let me go,' I said.  
  
'Why?' he snarled at me. 'Why the sudden change of heart, Suze?'  
  
I stared at him. 'What do you mean, "sudden change of heart"? Sudden change of heart, my arse, Paul. I've wanted you out right from the start . . . ' His eyes seemed to be trying to search me, read me. I didn't let him. He was angry too now. I thrust from him, and pushed him back, so he fell against the ground, but he came right back and slammed me against the wall again. God, his reflexes were snakelike! He glared right into my eyes with mild fire. The fear came immediately . . . I quailed beneath him. Why did he have this affect on me? It wasn't fair!  
  
'Ah, Suze,' he said casually, 'If you didn't want to hear my information, all you had to do was say.'  
  
I stopped thrashing. 'Information? What information?'  
  
He smirked. 'Well, I might not be so keen to tell you, now. Something I heard on the ghostly grapevine, you know? Or, well, found out first-hand, anyway.'  
  
I looked at him strangely. 'Let me go, and then tell me,' I said.  
  
He dropped my hands. 'Happy?'  
  
But I punched him anyway.  
  
'You deserved that,' I told him.  
  
He shrugged offhandedly. 'Probably.'  
  
'So?' I said expectantly.  
  
'Oh, that,' he said, and sat on my bed. 'Well, I assume you heard about that Heather girl and what she did?'  
  
Suddenly, I was a lot keener to hear what he had to say . . .  
  
'Yeah, so?'  
  
He picked up one of the little teddy bears I had on my bed. For decoration, of course. 'Well, we bumped into each other,' he explained, tossing my teddy up in the air and catching it again, 'and she was ranting angrily about you, so I said that I knew you. Then she started going on about some guy called Bryce, or someone, and how she wanted to kill him. She said that she couldn't thought. I told her that she could. Accidentally, of course, and the next time I heard from her, Mr Ex was dead.' With that, he ripped the head off the teddy bear. It was a horrible tearing sound. Stuffing spilled from the neck sadly.  
  
My mouth fell open.  
  
'So it was your fault,' I said quietly. 'You told Heather how to kill Bryce.'  
  
'Hey!' he defended, 'I told you, I didn't mean to. Don't go blaming me, okay?'  
  
'I'll go blaming you if I want,' I snapped.  
  
'Well, that's not all,' he yawned, stretching widely, 'But if you don't want to hear it, I'll just be going then-'  
  
I rolled my eyes. 'Just tell me, Paul.'  
  
His eyes snapped back to me. 'My, aren't we moody today?' I glared intensely at him. 'Okay, okay. After that, when I saw her again, she told me everything she did, blah, blah, and she says that now she wants to kill you,' he reported.  
  
'WHAT?!'  
  
'Hey? Don't shoot the messenger,' he said, lying flat on my bed. 'I've come to warn you. Might wanna bring out the exorcism equipment, you know, or she will kill you.'  
  
Oh my God. I mean, I knew that she was pissed and all, but . . . killing me? Why me? Why did they always want to kill the mediator?  
  
'One, Paul,' I said coldly, 'I'm harder to kill than you think. And secondly, I promised to Father Dominic that I wouldn't exorcise Heather.'  
  
'One, back at you,' he replied, 'Who the hell is Father Dominic? And second, to you, what are promises? They're words meant to pacify, and nothing more. Save your own butt, Suze, or she will kill you. I know she can. She's a very angry ghost.'  
  
'You seem to know a lot about Heather,' I said suspiciously. 'How much have you guys talked?'  
  
He blanched. 'Uh, not all that much. But she made her meaning clear when she gave me your death threat. So watch your back.'  
  
Did I believe him? I don't know . . .  
  
I swallowed. 'Okay, then Paul. You've said that. Now leave.'  
  
He looked amused. 'I think that my actions a minute ago expressed my feelings on going,' he smirked. 'You want another round?'  
  
'I could take you any day,' I said. 'Except today. I'm annoyed, and I'm really not in the mood to kick your arse. I need competition, you see.'  
  
He swelled up angrily. 'I'm more than a match for you, Suze! I could kill you so easily . . . but it would be such a waste, is all. Waste not, want not.'  
  
'What's that supposed to mean?' I demanded.  
  
He sat up, laughing. 'Whatever you like. Be that as it may, I have business elsewhere. So I'll see you around then.'  
  
'Yeah, whatever,' I mumbled vaguely. 'Go-'  
  
But he'd already dematerialized. Good. Finally. He was finally gone. Which was good. Yes. Very good. Finally.  
  
You can say it, I suck.  
  
~*~  
  
'So Suze, what exactly happened yesterday?' Adam was asking me.  
  
We were both sitting in the park on a bench. Everything was very peaceful. There was a beautiful breeze coming and brushing against my face, blowing my hair back a little. The lush green foliage around me made me feel very connected to nature for some reason. A lovely Sunday afternoon. Unfortunately, CeeCee couldn't make it, so Adam and I had met up.  
  
'Er, nothing,' I said.  
  
'Oh, come on, I know it wasn't nothing. CeeCee doesn't go fainting because she sees a shower. I mean, it might explain the smell-'  
  
'Adam, it was nothing. Brad must have left my shower running as a joke - wait till mum sees the water bill, it won't be so funny then - and CeeCee, I dunno, maybe she just slipped and bumped her head.  
  
'I checked her head while she was still out,' he said firmly, 'And there was no bumps, bruises or cuts. And believe me, it's very easy to see cuts in CeeCee's hair.'  
  
'Uh huh,' I said. 'I really don't know what's going on-'  
  
'You know what, Suze?' he said, staring right at my eyes. I gulped. 'I think you do know. And you're not telling me.'  
  
I gazed back at him. He had no idea . . . And he wasn't going to.  
  
'Adam,' I said, 'I don't have a clue what you're on about, okay? Drop it. It was weird, yes, but I don't know why it happened. Ask CeeCee, okay?'  
  
'I did,' he replied, turning his face away from me. 'She said the same thing. You girls . . . I bet you told her to picture me naked, right?'  
  
I laughed. 'Yeah, now THAT would make her faint, all right.'  
  
'Precisely!' he said triumphantly. 'I know that all you women want me! You are all too shy to ask me out, though! But please, don't be. Just, don't assume anything if you ever picture me naked again, okay? I'm very deceiving, you know-'  
  
'Okay, Adam, can you stop before you gross me out completely? That was just wrong,' I giggled, and he shoved me of the bench all together. I screamed in laughter, and he bolted.  
  
'You are so dead!' I yelled at him. And let's face it, I'm faster than him. I totally jumped at his knees and brought him on the grass. Then I gave him a friendly punch in the stomach.  
  
'Ow,' he laughed - and wheezed at the same time. 'Now that was just mean, Suze. Apologize?'  
  
'Never,' I said.  
  
'Okay then,' he said quickly. We both scrambled up, still laughing. We walked around the park, not talking. I frowned down at the pavement more with each step.  
  
'Suze, you look constipated. What's wrong?' he said.  
  
I stopped frowning. 'Huh? Oh, nothing.'  
  
He stopped. 'God, not this again. For God's sake, just tell me. I won't think you're a freak of nature. I successfully rank at that place.'  
  
I smiled. 'Yeah, whatever. Just, Adam?'  
  
'Yes, my darling?' he groveled jokily.  
  
'Tell me more about Heather Chambers. Besides from what you told me on my first day. What was she like?' I asked.  
  
He looked pained. 'You're asking me to actually remember the days of Heather Chambers? I planned to only share these things with my therapist, you know Suze. But yeah. You know what she would have been like. Kelly Prescott's twin only more evil. Both blond, gibbering idiots.'  
  
'What about Bryce?' I said. 'What was he like?'  
  
'Bryce Martinsen? He was all right. He was big into surfing, but he never gave me any trouble. Just the silent type, rather, and a little bit slow between you and me. Don't tell him that, he could beat me to a bloody pulp if he wanted to-'  
  
'You don't know?' I interrupted.  
  
He stared at me. 'Don't know what? There are loads of things I don't know, like elements on the periodic table, meaning of life, birds and the bees-'  
  
'Bryce is dead,' I said bluntly. 'He was shot.'  
  
Adam looked startled. 'Whoa,' he said slowly. 'Really? And here's me thinking he was going to die like they did in the horror movies, you know, all cut up into little pieces with blood everywhere . . . '  
  
I didn't tell him that the way he died was basically something out of a horror movie. That I knew of. I mean, a supernatural being shooting you? That's not your run of the mill way of dying, right?  
  
Adam still seemed mildly stunned. 'But Bryce,' he said, 'He was one of the good ones. I mean, he wasn't a stupid jock, just a jock. But he never gave anyone a hard time. Why don't you ask Jake what he was like? They were buds.'  
  
'I'll pass on that,' I said, not too interested. 'Having a conversation with Jake would only end with the line "Are you sure you're not in a gang?" I couldn't take that on a Sunday.'  
  
He kicked at a twig on the ground. 'Fair enough. Why do you want to know about Bryce and Heather anyway?'  
  
'Hey? Why are people talking about me?!' demanded a voice from behind me. I stopped and whirled around, and came face to face with none other than . . .  
  
Well duh. Bryce.  
  
But yeah, I wasn't expecting to see him. Neither was he.  
  
'You can see me?' he said, awed.  
  
'Hang on,' I mouthed. Adam was gawking at me. 'Adam, go get me an ice- cream,' I said quickly, shoving a handful of dollars to him.  
  
'But, Suze, who-'  
  
'Go.'  
  
'Okay,' he squeaked, and ran off. I turned back to Bryce, with his beachy blond hair and his broad shoulders. Oh woe, revenge of the hotties . . .  
  
He stared at me some more, and not to flatter myself, but he looked impressed. Yay. I'm being eyed by dead hot guys. That's up to two points now!  
  
'Well?' I said, 'what do you want? I've heard a lot about you, Bryce.'  
  
He looked bemused. 'Really?' he said. 'How come?'  
  
'Because your ex-girlfriend's a ghost and has been making my life hell,' I said, 'And naturally, I wanted to know her history. She was the one that killed you, wasn't she?'  
  
He sighed and nodded. I think so,' he muttered glumly. 'By what she wrote. Her and her friend.'  
  
I stopped walking. 'Huh? Friend? She has a friend? Is that humanly possible?' I said harshly.  
  
'Whoa, twenty questions, babe,' he said. 'I don't know. She mentioned a friend. I don't know who she was. Or he.'  
  
Or he . . . Heather with a ghostly boyfriend? Ugh. That was worse than when Harmony got with Spike in Buffy. Ha, it kind of made sense, right? But who was this person? I mean, yeah, it probably was a girl, right? Yeah. Some other scorned skank out for revenge teamed up with Heather. No one I knew . . .  
  
'I'm sorry,' I said, 'I don't know who her friend could be. And I'm really sorry that she killed you. That wasn't fair. I feel so bad. I know it's my fault, I was supposed to stop her . . . '  
  
He dragged a hand through his blond hair and sighed, as if this was all way too much to deal with. Or, if Adam was right, way too much to penetrate his brain all at once. 'It's not your fault, babe. You couldn't have done anything, right?'  
  
'Yes I could have!' I shouted in my frustration. He twitched. Great, he's scared of me now . . . 'It's just, dealing with these ghosts is my job. I have to do. And my priority is to make them move on before they hurt someone else. And I've screwed up. I was too wrapped up in my stupid freaking life to remember that. It's my fault that you're dead, Bryce.'  
  
He shrugged. 'Okay, if you insist. I'm going to see if I can catch a wave or something-'  
  
'You can't,' I said, 'You're dead.'  
  
Now, he looked really heartbroken. 'Oh yeah . . . ' He gazed longingly at the beach. 'Dead. Yeah . . . '  
  
Oh my God. I felt so guilty now. Poor guy. So what if he was two buns short of a baker's dozen? Just because he wasn't too bright, it didn't mean he didn't deserve to live. That stupid cow . . . She was really going to pay now. That is, if she hadn't crossed over yet. I mean, Bryce would have been the thing holding her back, right? But, Paul was making out like she was still hanging around to off me too.  
  
Hang on . . . I have a thought here.  
  
Paul . . .  
  
*You seem to know a lot about Heather . . . How much have you guys talked?*  
  
What if -  
  
'Suze! I got you a double cone with chocolate and rainbow ice cream, and a honeycomb cone for me. Happy?' Adam broke in, passing right through Bryce. Adam shivered, and Bryce dematerialized.  
  
Damn, lost that thought . . .  
  
I took the cone off Adam, and promptly began licking. Oooh, lovely, sweet and cold.  
  
'Ah, this is the life,' Adam said through a mouthful of ice cream. I noticed that he'd managed to acquire a large dollop on the tip of his nose. I snorted, but didn't tell him. 'Eating a huge honeycomb ice-cream that I didn't pay for, walking in the park on a sunny day surrounded by the beauties of nature, and I'm with the most beautiful girl at Juniperro Serra Mission Academy that doesn't find me repulsive.'  
  
'Oh, no,' I said, 'I do find you repulsive, I do.'  
  
He grinned broadly, as if this was a fantastic revelation. 'Ah, I knew it!' He began jumping in the air, apparently for joy, when he jumped too wildly and his little scoop of ice cream fell right off his cone and onto the grass. His face fell completely. I laughed, and flicked the rainbow scoop of mine onto his cone.  
  
'Thanks!' he exclaimed, and buried his face into it. Not literally, but let's just say that it didn't last too long. And I'd licked it and everything, too. I tell you, Adam's one weird one . . .  
  
But yeah, I'd made up my mind. Tonight, Heather was going down.  
  
~*~  
  
I packed my things carefully. You know, the usual. A torch, a rope, a little Swiss Army knife - God knows where I found that - a bunch of pieces of metal for lock picking, and all the stuff for an Brazilian exorcism. I mean, I didn't have a photo of her, so I'd have to trick her into exorcising her from the school. I mean, killing Bryce was bad enough, but now she intends on killing me? How rude!  
  
I stuffed my bed with pillows, so it looked like I was sleeping. I just hoped no one checked too closely, you know?  
  
It was about ten when I snuck out. I rode to the school on Dopey's bike, dressed entirely in black. So, reasoning hadn't worked with Heather. She was now going to learn the hard way, the stupid cow . . .  
  
By ten thirty, I was standing outside of Mr Walden's classroom. Very carefully, I smashed the window, and climbed in. I mean, the security system at Juniperro Serra? Well, that went as far as locking the doors and hoping for the best. I carefully climbed in, avoiding the sharp glass. I mean, blood? No, not cool. Doesn't suit my skin colour at all. I ran down the dark, echoing hallway until I was in the library, where they keep all the old school photos. I flicked through all the folders until I at last came to Heather's picture. With the knife, I cut it out, and ran to the Chemistry classroom, where I set up everything for the exorcism.  
  
I felt very focused, and not very emotive. Like, you know when you have a goal, and you can only think about that one thing? Like that . . .  
  
I was just lighting the candles, when a voice made my heart seize up.  
  
'What the hell are you doing?'  
  
I almost dropped the match in shock.  
  
'Paul!' I hissed, 'You scared the shit out of me! Get out of here!'  
  
He sauntered over. 'Oh, well. Just dropping in to see how you're going. Not to help, I'm not into this Voodoo stuff you like, but if it gets the job done . . . ' He shrugged and looked down at me.  
  
'Just go away, or you'll get yourself exorcised.'  
  
'See? You do like me, otherwise you wouldn't care if I got exorcised. You like having me around, don't you Susie.'  
  
'Get an afterlife, Paul,' I snapped. 'Fine. Stay. In fact, stand in the middle of this circle!'  
  
He smirked broadly and crossed his arms. 'And I'd be doing that why?'  
  
I ignored him. I had a job to do, and he wasn't going to screw it up.  
  
'Just go,' I sighed.  
  
And for once in his sorry existence, he did as he was told and dematerialized. Great. So much for the no emotion tactic. Now I was frustrated about stinking Paul! Jesus, I was going to kill him. Or, well . . . you know what I mean!  
  
Everything was set. The candles winked brightly at me with yellow, iridescent light, and the chicken blood had been painted on the ground in the right shapes. Now for the photo. I dug into my pocket-  
  
But it wasn't there.  
  
'Shit,' I cursed. I must have dropped it. Groaning quietly, I tiptoed outside the classroom and down the dark, sinfully silent hallway, scanning the ground for the cut out photo of Heather. Ah, there it was, a few meters ahead. A small black rectangle on a grey, spotty floor. I ran over to it and bent down, just as something really hard collided with the back of my head.  
  
I sank into the darkness of my own mind . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ***************  
  
So predictable, I know.  
  
I know that not much happened here, but just wait. It's still all coming. Please keep reviewing, I'm thinking that I might do like, a series of these stories, you know, with the Paul/Jesse swap? What do you think? And if you have any requests for the stories, make them in the reviews that I know you are going to write because you are all such wonderful people.  
  
Please review?  
  
Love Princess Roxanne! 


	10. Cruel Intentions

Last Chapter: I ran over to it and bent down, just as something really hard collided with the back of my head.  
  
I sank into the darkness of my own mind . . .  
  
Visions.  
  
Visions swirled before my closed eyelids. I was asleep, I knew that. Or unconscious. But I wasn't dead, that was the main thing. No, I wasn't dead.  
  
Yet.  
  
I didn't know what was happening. I guess I was dreaming. Before me, all I saw was Paul and Jesse. I don't know why, but they were fighting. As in, brawling. And Paul was winning. Jesse was dying. I saw -what must have been my interpretation of - Adrianna, and Paul shot her with a gun. Then he turned right to me, aiming the barrel at me.  
  
'Please! No, I'm sorry, Heather, I-' I screamed, but Paul fired, and instantly, I felt an explosion of pain between my eyes.  
  
This was no dream.  
  
It was a nightmare.  
  
I wanted to get out, but this nightmare was entrapping me like binding, thorny ropes, preventing all chances of escape. I was drowning in my worst fears . . . and I couldn't swim out! Anything, anything!  
  
Suddenly, the pain in my forehead became so intense, that it caused my eyes to snap open. And before me, I didn't like what I saw.  
  
Heather was standing there, glaring at me, and hitting me with this really thick metal pole. On my head. That's where the pain was coming from. I felt so dizzy . . .  
  
'Heather,' I gasped, 'What the hell is wrong with you?!'  
  
She grinned vindictively. 'Ah, you're awake, Mediator.'  
  
'Barely,' I slurred, 'What's going on?' I turned my head, and saw that my hands were tied behind my back. I was tied to one of the pillars near the statue of Father Serra, and it took me a few seconds to realize that not only where my feet tied, but she'd used MY rope from MY backpack of mediation supplies. I mean, now I was offended.  
  
She laughed at me. It rang tauntingly in my ears. 'And to think that you were supposed to be a challenge . . . They all told me not to get on the wrong side of you, saying that you were trouble.'  
  
'Who's "they?" What are you on about?' I asked blearily, still trying to focus my vision on her.  
  
'They? All the other ghosts, duh. They, like, said you weren't to be crossed, and stuff like that. But all I needed was a metal pole. You suck, you know that Simon?'  
  
I blinked. 'What are you going to do?' I wanted to know, still feeling nauseous, 'Because I'm really busy at the moment. I came here because I was supposed to exorcise this ghost . . . oh yeah, you.'  
  
Through fuzzy sight, I saw her face contort with rage. 'No you won't!' she shrieked at me, and struck me in the ribs with the pole. Not very forcefully, but it still hurt like crazy! I stifled a moan.  
  
'Listen, Simon,' she said wrathfully, 'I've had a really hard couple of days. I mean, they've been the pits. What with my new boyfriend dumping me, and with you on my back, well, they've been the worst of my life -'  
  
'Afterlife,' I corrected.  
  
'Shut up!' she bellowed, and walloped me in the stomach with the pole. I gasped in pain. I needed to fight back, I couldn't be chained here like some animal, accepting this abuse from some skanky, IQ lacking ghost of a chick who'd obviously been a super-bitch when she was alive. I mean, this is not how it was supposed to go! I was supposed to exorcise her before she could say "Could you at least mail my lip gloss to Purgatory?"  
  
But no. The tables had turned, all right.  
  
In her favour.  
  
'So,' she continued, 'I'm really stressed at the moment. My mum always told me not to get stressed, she said I'd get worry lines prematurely. She said that if I ever got stressed, I needed to de-stress!' With that, she elbowed me in the chest. I cried out aloud. It hurt so much, God . . .  
  
'This is my newest method for de-stressing,' she said simply, and then scratched my face. I felt a little blood run down my cheek.  
  
My head fell forward. 'Heather,' I said softly, 'Don't do this. Come on, this isn't helping. I know exactly what you're going through, dying young and all, but this isn't the way to make it better-'  
  
'What would you know?!' she screeched in my face. 'You go around, acting like you're some princess, just because you can talk to a couple of dead people.'  
  
'Trust me, being able to talk to you after your dead? Not so hot,' I said.  
  
I could feel rage coming from her in heat waves.  
  
'You're pushing it, Mediator,' she said in a deadly tone. 'I don't want to kill you yet. I'm really bored, you see. And if I kill you, I'll have nothing to do. So let's have some girly time . . . '  
  
'I'm for that,' I said quickly, 'Nice girly chats. Lots of talks, just bumming around. No metal poles to be heard of-'  
  
'Simon, you're like, so stupid. What's the use of punning at the evil bit if you don't get it? See, you suck the fun out of EVERYTHING!'  
  
That little "everything" of course, was escorted with a blow to my head. I didn't give her the satisfaction of yelling. She didn't deserve it.  
  
'You know what, Heather?' I said, 'You're pathetic.'  
  
She looked startled, as if she was thinking, 'What? My victim is mocking me!" Well, at least I'd caught her off-guard. She froze, and stared at me wildly.  
  
'Yeah, that's right,' I goaded, 'You kill yourself for a guy. How dumb is that? I mean, what good can you do six feet under? You say I'm stupid, well, committing suicide? That's about as low as you can go. You're name is dirt at school. Everyone knew you as this slut who was a bitch to everyone. So I can see why someone as pathetic as you would get kicks out of this. But it's just plain embarrassing of you. You have to tie me up to beat me? God, how humiliating . . . '  
  
'Shut up!' she exploded, 'Shut up, SHUT UP!' With that, she scooped up something from the ground. I squinted to see what it was . . .  
  
Oh shit.  
  
My Army knife.  
  
'Well, lookie here, Simon. Seems like this is getting boring,' she said slyly. 'I could end this right now, you know.' She put the blade against my neck, and I felt the sharpness of the metal pierce my skin. I winced, and my heart stopped. For the first time, I felt genuinely scared.  
  
Only then I realized what this dumb blond was capable of . . .  
  
She could actually kill me.  
  
I looked at her with wide eyes.  
  
'Go on, Mediator,' she snarled malevolently, smiling crookedly, 'Beg. Beg for me to let you go. I want to here you plead for mercy.'  
  
"Oh my God . . . Help me, please, someone out there, help me. Please . . . "  
  
'Never,' I hissed, and spat at her.  
  
Her eyes flashed. 'Ew! Simon, you're gross! Here I am, building up an atmosphere, and you're slagging everywhere! Oh well,' she smirked thinly, 'Guess you've had enough. See you on this side, Mediator . . . '  
  
I began thrashing about then. The rope was chafing into my wrists, but I had to get out!  
  
Again, I felt the blade slowly slide across my skin. I bit my tongue against the excruciating pain, and screwed up my eyes. I wasn't going to scream. I was going to be brave. It was all going to end. My world was crashing down . . .  
  
That's when I heard two people shout 'No!' at the same time. I could have been wrong, maybe the voice was just echoing, but it sounded like two. Maybe I was screaming "No." I opened my eyes, and Heather stopped and spun around in alarm -  
  
Jesse De Silva dived at the pair of us, and in a swirl of mystical blue luminosity, we all materialized . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ******************  
  
Paul's POV  
  
She thought I'd gone, but I'd only materialized further away from her. I was going to watch. Not help, God no. Well, maybe, if things got too violent. Or I could even pull a knight in shining armour act. But I wasn't going to actually let Heather KILL Suze. I mean, the bitch had done enough, right? And Suze, dead? Well, that wouldn't be as fun is she was a ghostie like me. I mean, nearly exposing her secret was some of the best parts of haunting her bedroom. That and the other potential best parts . . . if you catch my drift. So, I stayed on the sidelines, even when Heather clocked Suze one on the head with a pipe. I stayed in the shadows when she tied Suze to some column, and then began beating her with the same pipe. I mean, I almost went to help, but I didn't.  
  
I was waiting for the perfect moment . . .  
  
Well, there was a lot of talking between them that I couldn't hear. Heather kept hitting Suze with the pole. I could see blood trickling down her forehead, and the pain in her cries almost broke my heart, which was really unusual, considering that I didn't believe I had a heart. Hearts are for sissies, they hold you back from doing what you want to do.  
  
Well, then why did I deteriorate inside when I heard her screaming? Why did I feel like dying again when I saw the tears spill from those terrified, entrancing emerald eyes? How was it that when Heather cut her, my neck seared in agony as well?  
  
HOW?!  
  
I glared at her. Damn her. Damn her for having this power over me, manipulating my emotions - for God's sake, GIVING me emotions! Damn her for making me feel this scared for her . . .  
  
You know, I should have just left her there, at Heather's mercy. She'd get out of there somehow, right? I mean, she was a Shifter. At the moment that decided everything, her panic would force her to dematerialize. Right?  
  
No . . . she was only a baby to this . . .  
  
Something kept me there. I didn't want to, but I couldn't fight this ensnaring spell that held me there.  
  
And then, when I heard Heather saw, very clearly, 'See you on the other side, Mediator,' my shell shattered.  
  
'No!' I yelled.  
  
But, to my disbelief, I wasn't the only one to yell. Because that was when a blurred figure ran from the middle of the area, and leapt at both of them, casting them in a swirl of glittering blue light. Heather disappeared, and Suze collapsed to the floor in her binds. And the other one . . .  
  
De Silva.  
  
A boiling, gut twisting, murderous anger erupted inside of me, engulfing me completely.  
  
What was HE doing here?!  
  
That's when I realized what had happened, and why Heather was gone.  
  
They'd shifted! ARGH!  
  
DAMN YOU, DE SILVA!  
  
He spoiled everything! I was going to go and throw Heather away from Suze, and come out with a sparkling clean record, and she'd love me forever, and then HE showed up! De Prick!  
  
In fury, I cleanly decapitated that stupid Juniperro Whatza statue, and sent it crashing into the breezeway. He'd RUINED IT ALL!!  
  
AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
**************************************************************************** ****************** Suze's POV  
  
The Shadowland.  
  
I never wanted to come back here, ever.  
  
But shifting had saved my life. I was lying on a glassy, invisible floor, and smoke was swallowing me. Cold, heavy, thick fog. I felt like I couldn't breath.  
  
'Querida?' called a voice from somewhere through the fog. Everything was black, and I couldn't see . . . And I was scared. Not a good combination . . .  
  
'Jesse?' I squealed, 'Jesse, where are you? Where-'  
  
But a fist collided with my head. I turned around, and there was Heather, glaring at me.  
  
'Where have you taken me?!' she demanded, pummeling me.  
  
But hey. In this Shadowland thing, I was in perfect health. No bruises to the head, no cuts to the neck.  
  
And I was filled with white hot rage . . .  
  
'Yo, Heather?' I snapped, standing up. 'I really don't appreciate this whole thing with you trying to kill me. I mean, that is really rude.' And that's when I began to beat the crap out of her.  
  
What?  
  
I was NOT feeling too friendly towards her, can you blame me?  
  
'Querida!' Jesse shouted through the fog. I stopped dead.  
  
'Jesse? I can't see you,' I said. I turned back to Heather and gave her a final fly kick to the head, before she fell down.  
  
I spun around, and began wading through the fog, feeling out for Jesse.  
  
'Where are you?' I called, beginning to panic again. The cold density was drawing me in again.  
  
'Querida. Follow my voice,' he yelled distantly. I strained my ears, and listened to the silence as well as the sound . . . Ah, he was behind me!  
  
I stumbled back, and fell into his arms.  
  
'Oh, Jesse,' I breathed, and hugged him tightly. He wrapped his arms around me protectively, holding me in a possessive embrace.  
  
'Agradezca a Dios! Don't scare me like that,' he said into my hair, squeezing my back fearfully. I rested my head in on his chest. Despite the fog, I suddenly felt warm . . .  
  
But a screech destroyed the moment completely! 'Simon!'  
  
I broke away from Jesse. 'Sorry, I have to finish this,' I whispered. I found Heather standing, absolutely furious. With a thespian swirl, the fog cleared to knee-height. She glared daggers at me, and I her.  
  
Then, she lunged at me. I dodged, and elbowed her in the back. She shouted, and fell to the glass floor, but scrambled up. She went to punch me, but I grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back, causing her to scream.  
  
'Just tell me when you've had enough,' I snickered. I mean, come on, this was child's play. She couldn't throw a punch for peanuts. Why she'd want peanuts, I have no idea . . . but yeah. She gasped, and tried to tug my hair, but come on?  
  
'Heather, I had no idea you were five years old,' I remarked, and threw her down.  
  
She looked up at me, her eyes watering.  
  
'Don't kill me,' she whimpered.  
  
I stared at her. Was she loopy?  
  
'Sorry to disappoint you darl, but you're already dead,' I said. 'And I wouldn't kill you if you were alive, by the way. I have a conscience?'  
  
She blinked, and then, oh so pathetically, burst into tears. 'It wasn't meant to be this way! Bryce had no right to break my heart like that! He shouldn't have left me! It's ALL HIS FAULT! He-'  
  
'I think you got your revenge there,' I said flatly. 'He's dead. You killed him.'  
  
She shook her head, her eyes incredibly. 'Uh uh . . . that wasn't me. That was my boyfriend.'  
  
I frowned. What? 'Huh? You didn't shoot him?'  
  
But she launched into a passionate rant about this new boyfriend of hers. ' . . . I thought he loved me! We'd made love, and I thought that he cared about me! He told me to kill Bryce! I didn't do it, he did! I was just there, I swear, Simon! He shot him . . . and then HE DUMPED ME-E-E-E-E!!!'  
  
She was bawling by then. My God . . . I glanced over at Jesse, who was looking politely disgusted.  
  
Hang on . . . something nagged at my memory . . . something that gave me a very, very, very bad feeling . . .  
  
'Heather,' I said slowly and hesitantly, 'What was this guy's name?'  
  
Her lip wobbled as she fought back her moans of misery. 'That b-b-bastard?'  
  
'Yeah,' I said, 'him? What was his name, Heather?'  
  
She looked up at me, her eyes full of despair. 'God, why do you want to know, Simon?'  
  
'JUST TELL ME THE FRIGGING NAME!!!'  
  
'Okay!' she squeaked. 'Paul. Happy?'  
  
Oh.  
  
My.  
  
God.  
  
I went very numb all over. Dread crept through me. I knew it, but I wish I didn't.  
  
Paul. It was him all along. He'd lied. He'd had sex with Heather, for God's sake. He'd killed Bryce. He was the murderer . . .  
  
And that reptile had been living within two meters away from me.  
  
'Madre santa del dios!' Jesse cried, 'She's not serious!'  
  
I gulped, and shook myself. I didn't give a rat's about Paul. Why did I feel so terribly betrayed then? WHY?!  
  
'I think she is,' I said softly.  
  
Heather blinked. 'What? What did I say? I mean, I loved him! I gave him my heart, and he crushed it. Why do the bad ones have to be so great at sex?'  
  
She didn't just say that. Ew! Gross!  
  
Jesse looked quite sick. 'Susannah, I think that we'd better get out of here . . . '  
  
'No, you can't leave me here!' Heather cried, 'No! It's dark, and cold! And where are the GUYS?!'  
  
'Look,' I said angrily. 'Seeing as you just tried to slice my head off, you are in no position to be telling me what to do. Go through one of those doors, and it will lead you to your next life,' I said. 'This is where you're supposed to be, trust me Heather.'  
  
She looked like she was ready to stab me again. I quickly ran to Jesse, and he put his hands on my shoulders.  
  
'Are you all right, querida?' he asked gently. I nodded torpidly, not feeling all that okay if truth be told. With Heather screaming "YOU BITCH! I SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOU!!" we shifted back to the Mission Academy . . .  
  
~*~  
  
I opened my eyes, and there I was, sprawled across the ground. The pain in my head had returned. My vision was very iffy, too. Mysteriously, my hands and feet were untied. Oh, God . . . my wrists were all puffy, and were even bleeding a bit. I stared at them silently.  
  
'Sus manos!'  
  
I looked up, and Jesse was standing over me. He squatted down, and examined my hands. 'They will be all right,' he informed me grimly. 'You haven't cut any major arteries or veins, Susannah, but you will need to have them bandaged up.' Very tenderly, he placed his hands under my armpits and pulled me up. I winced, because it felt like I'd twisted my ankle or something, but I was okay.  
  
Jesse stared angrily at my face. That little scar on his eyebrow? That had turned a pale white colour . . . his eyes were blazing furiously.  
  
'Look what she did to you,' he whispered, running his thumb across my cheek and wiping away blood.  
  
'Just say it,' I sighed with exasperation, 'I look like shit.'  
  
He half smiled. 'Oh, querida . . . You're always encantador . . . Estaba tan asustado que perdido usted . . .' he trailed off. What? It was Spanish, I didn't understand a word of it. I just hoped that being "encantador" was a good thing, you know . . . But there was one thing that I didn't get . . .  
  
'Jesse,' I said, puzzled, 'How did you know I was in danger?'  
  
He gazed back at me with onyx eyes that burnt brightly at me. 'Well, we are both shifters. Your cry was most likely audible to several other shifters within the Carmel area, I suspect. When we have the most emotion in us, we are able to communicate. Fear usually triggers this power mainly, but happiness can set it off also. I recognized your voice, and came immediately.'  
  
'Came?'  
  
'Materialized. Like ghosts,' he told me.  
  
I nodded. 'Oh . . . But-'  
  
Of course, I was cut off by when he bowed his head and brushed his nose against mine. I stopped talking, and let out this little sigh, you know? He ran the tip of his nose down my cheek and kissed my neck. I gasped in desire. And kissed me again. On the lips.  
  
Well, if this was the reward, I'd like to have near death experiences more often, please!  
  
His lips were gentle, yet fiery on mine. Like burning ice. I relished his taste, and the love he was putting into it. I understood what he was feeling, just by the way we were united. He had been scared. For me. Isn't' that sweet? I mean, this is me! No body is ever scared for me, damn it.  
  
My hand strayed to behind his neck, and he gripped me tighter into him, but then he accidentally touched one of my hands.  
  
'Ah!' I panted, and stepped away hastily.  
  
'Oh, I'm sorry,' he apologized, looking very guilty. 'Here, let me see-'  
  
'No, it's fine,' I said, taking a step back from him. 'I'd better go home. Mum will wonder where I am, and my step-brother Sleepy will think I just went through some Initiation into a local gang with these monstrosities.' I held up my wrists, and he looked on sadly.  
  
'Are you sure you're going to be all right?' he asked anxiously.  
  
'Right as rain,' I chirped, a little too enthusiastically.  
  
'Please,' he said, 'Let me drive you home-'  
  
'Jesse,' I snapped, 'I'll be fine! Stop fussing. You sound like my mother.'  
  
He blushed. 'I'm sorry. I'm just worried if . . . You know, Paul might pay a visit-'  
  
'I've dealt with him before this. I told you, I hardly ever see him,' I lied, avoiding his eyes. I looked stubbornly at the ground. 'Just do me a favour. I've got a load of exorcism stuff set up in Chem. class. Could you pack it away? I would, but these are really starting to sting.' I glanced at my wrists. Dark red blood oozed out of tiny scratches in a neat ring around my wrist. It looked like some Gothic bracelet.  
  
'Of course,' he assured me. 'I'll give it to you at your locker tomorrow-'  
  
'Fine!' I said, and I ran off to where I'd dumped Dopey's bike before . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** *****************  
  
Paul's POV  
  
Once I had made certain that they were both unconscious - as in Suze and Jesse - I quickly untied Suze's wrists. Holy crap, they were in real bad shape! And her forehead, it was bruised way bad. She was frowning in her insentient state. Something intense must be going down in the Shadow World, I guessed. I checked Suze over for any other damages - I mean, come on, if she was going to die or something, I wasn't just going to just leave her there. I may be evil, but I'm not a sadist - but she seemed okay everywhere else. I picked her up and put her over my shoulders, ready to walk her home, but I stopped. Seeing some chick floating through midair? Not cool. That would really be weird for any nosy onlookers. Nah, best let her come home the natural way . . . I set her down again next to the pillar.  
  
Then I turned to De Silva.  
  
God, right then, I had the most powerful, most commanding urge to kill him then and there, but no. It wasn't the right time. There was a right time for everything, and this wasn't it. Jesse De Silva would get his own when he deserved it, but not now. I'd make him pay later. I planned on doing something really, truly cruel to him. What, I wasn't sure. But I was going to break him, and then kill him. He wouldn't know what hit him. He would be crushed if it was the last thing I saw . . .  
  
But what was he doing here?  
  
How could Suze know him? He lived quite a while away. Maybe he was still doing those bloody charity cases like Suze told me about, and was just passing by? No, De Silva was too complicated to just "be in the neighbourhood." Something was up . . . Something that smelt horribly wrong. I glared at the two of them accusingly. Suze's hair was fluttering with each breath she released, and her eye was swelling up a little. De Silva's chest was rising. They both looked like they were on drugs, and had passed out in the middle of their school. Not that De Silva went to this school.  
  
Could they be . . . together?  
  
God no! Remember, Paul, he doesn't live anywhere near here. Granted, yes, his family does own a stable here, but they don't live there, right? That house has been rented out. They owned another stable up in Seattle, where I was from.  
  
I just didn't get what was going on. Jesus!  
  
But just then, I saw Suze's eyes flickering open. Shit! I quickly dematerialized over to the shadowy corner where I'd been watching from before. I saw De Silva get up quickly, and then bend down at once to check Suze's wrists. See? Told you they were nasty . . .  
  
That was when De Silva helped her up. And I don't mean the gentlemanly, extending the hand and hauling her up thing. I mean the hands around her waist, all over her thing. I froze, and felt my body go quite stiff with an unexpected jealousy. De Silva . . . he was touching my girl.  
  
NOBODY TOUCHES MY THINGS!!!!  
  
I almost exploded out then, but I maintained control over myself. Barely. . . The way that they were both staring at each other, like they l-  
  
. . . loved each other.  
  
Oh my God, how could I have been so blind. How could she do this to me?!  
  
Out of all the guys she could go off and screw, she had to pick the one guy that MURDERED ME!  
  
WITH A FRIGGING GUN!  
  
That two-faced bitch . . .  
  
But it got worse. After they were finished making moon eyes at each other, he had to go and kiss her on the neck and everything! And she, she was liking it! I could tell by the way that she was panting, and breathing heavily and everything. And he was draping himself on her . . .  
  
He'd gone too far.  
  
And so had she!  
  
A wave of something so intense flooded me. It was even more painful than my gradual, excruciating death had been . . . I was too enraged for words. No mere words could come close to expressing the copious degree of this fury that was erupting within me . . . My hands were white and quivering, and I kept flexing them, trying to shake off the temptation to kill, to scythe.  
  
Suze wasn't going to get away with this. No way. I was going to make sure that she would never forget what it means to cross the line when Paul Slater is around. And she'd left the line IN THE FREAKING WILDERNESS!  
  
Breathing fast, I dematerialized.  
  
**************************************************************************** ********  
  
I cycled home fast on Dopey's bike. My hands were bloody murder, emphasis on the bloody. (A/N: First her blistering feet, now her chafed hands. She can't win, can she? Lol . . .) My head was spinning around a whirlpool, and once I even stacked the bike because I missed a letterbox. So when I finally did make it hope, I wasn't in a very good condition. It took me a while to climb up to my window, but I did, and it was open, so that was another plus. I staggered into my room, seeing double of everything.  
  
And that's when I saw Paul Slater sitting on my bed, waiting for me . . .  
  
Oh no . . .  
  
~*~  
  
**************************************************************************** ******************  
  
Shit . . . he's real mad, guys . . . See what happens, it going to be bad. Please comment on what you've read, and remember, I love the long reviews the best, as long as they don't repeat one word too much. Please review, and tell me anything you want me to include in either the next chapter or a future story? Because I've only planned up to here, so I'll be winging the next chapter. But be warned, I might not update for a while. I was lucky I got to write two chapters this weekend. I haven't done any of my homework, so I am so busted, but I had to write this. So please make it worth my while, and write nice long-winded reviews about your opinions?  
  
THANK YOU!!!  
  
Love Princess Roxanne!! 


	11. Behind Blue Eyes

I want to write this chapter perfectly, so it might take a few shots for me to capture the mood. It's gonna be a little intense, so if you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen. Er . . . why did I say that? Eugh... Nah, just, it might be rated a little higher for it's content, so watch out . . . Please don't flame me or anything, I'm worried I'm not going to be able to pull this off. Heck, I don't even know what I'm going to do after this first bit, but we will see . . .  
  
Disclaimer: No lyrics belong to me from this chapter.  
  
**************************************************************************** **************  
  
Paul's POV  
  
She just stood there. As if she had done nothing wrong. As if she was innocent . . .  
  
Ha . . . Innocent my arse.  
  
She didn't know that I'd seen her. With De Silva.  
  
I saw a look of fleeting panic flash across her fragile features. Her eyes looked scared. They wouldn't leave mine. I saw her chest rising and falling, very fast. Just as it had been when she'd been in his arms, kissing him, wanting him.  
  
Wanting him and not me.  
  
I wasn't taking it too kindly.  
  
There was no moon this night. Darkness blanketed us, thick and ominous. Her wrists were still bleeding. A single drop fell to her floor, leaving a tiny red dot on the ground. She continued to gaze at me, fear stirring behind her eyes.  
  
Emerald, starry eyes that had captivated me, enticed me, fueled me . . .  
  
Deceived me . . .  
  
The bitch.  
  
We remained motionless, staring at each other. Slowly, my anger was starting to rise again. She didn't say a word, as if she had nothing to say to make her actions seem like a terrible mistake. Soon, my anger turned to fury. Painful, hot and acidic in my stomach, corroding through me with such fire that it aroused the deadly temptation to kill again. To give me that power, that thrill, of claiming a life. And gradually, as the lethal silence burnt on, my fury turned to an overpowering white-hot rage that I'd never felt before. It was excruciating, slowly consuming ever nerve of my body, every muscle, ever thought.  
  
My hands began to shake again, and I ground my teeth together, trying to hold back this impulse to . . . destroy.  
  
This rage, it was unbearable! But, as it conquered me, I found it to be . . . empowering.  
  
And deadly addictive.  
  
An eternity seemed to pass, when she finally opened her lips. Lips that had touched another's . . .  
  
His.  
  
'I . . . '  
  
She lost her confidence. I saw her shaking, but not in the way that I was. She was terrified. And so she should be . . . She had no idea what she'd done, and how much it mattered.  
  
I swallowed hard. 'Yes, Susie?' I said, my voice a fatal whisper. It cut her like a knife. Her fear intensified.  
  
'I . . . ' she stuttered, 'I . . . heard what Heather said. She said you slept with her. It's true, isn't it?' Her eyes studied me with supreme dread.  
  
I ignored what she said. My shaking fists were clenched so tightly that my blunt nails were digging into my flesh. The need for violence made my chest seize up into a tight, aching knot. I could barely breathe, but I didn't need to.  
  
'I saw you,' I told her coldly, preserving my menacing stance.  
  
Three words. Three tiny little words that had so much impact on her. All at once, her mouth opened into the tiniest O, and her eyes glazed over in horror, and her hands twitched, and her breathing quickened dramatically, and she stepped back.  
  
Oh no you don't . . .  
  
'Paul,' she said, her voice unnaturally high, 'I can explain, I can-'  
  
'Oh, you don't need to explain, Suze,' I smiled stiffly. But I could think of nothing less funny in my whole existence. It certainly wasn't funny what I was going to do to her. I took a step towards her, oh so slowly. 'I understand completely . . . '  
  
She backed away. 'No, it's not like that, I swear-'  
  
'Come on, Suze,' I slid my tongue over my dry lips and took another step closer. 'It's exactly like that, and you know it.'  
  
'No, Paul, stop,' she breathed frantically, choking, 'You have to understand, I didn't-'  
  
'But Suze, you did,' I said tonelessly. She shook her head madly, so her hair swayed from side to side.  
  
'No, no,' she whispered, breaking eye contact with me at last. She looked wildly, anywhere but at me.  
  
'You've been bad . . . '  
  
Her eyes snapped back to me in alarm. I saw her pupils zoom into microscopic black dots. Shadows played darkly across her face. She retreated. I advanced on her until she was right against her wall, crushing her there with my body. She moaned softly. I placed my hands on the wall either side of her head. She stared up at me, petrified. Another rush of this wonderful, turbulent rage surged into me, pulsing through me so forcefully I almost couldn't stand it. But I didn't let it defeat me. I was too strong and too provoked to not exploit it. I felt like I was surfing horrible yet brilliant waves of pleasure.  
  
I stroked her hair a little, careful that I didn't rip it out in my wrath. 'You kissed him,' I said forthrightly. 'You enjoyed it. You let him touch you. You don't let me touch you like that.' My nostrils flared, and my lip curled a little. Reigning in this killer emotion was harder than anything I could ever imagine. I just wanted to release it. Let it run wild.  
  
Around the room, things began to shake. Posters on the walls ripped off, ornaments fell and shattered on the hard ground, and the bulb in her light smashed loudly. She let out a short, loud scream, but I quickly put a finger on my lips.  
  
'Paul,' she said levelly, pushing my hand away. 'Don't. You're angry, you'll do something that you'll regret. Just go, before you break any more of my stuff.'  
  
I laughed at that. It was a flat, humourless laugh that echoed dully around the room. I could feel her quivering beneath me.  
  
'Oh, Suze,' I sneered, 'Don't worry about me breaking your stuff . . .' I moved my lips near her ear, and said in a dangerous hiss, '. . . worry about me breaking you.'  
  
I felt her tense up, and she turned her head away from me. 'Paul, stop this- '  
  
'No,' I snarled suddenly with viciousness. 'You deserve this!'  
  
With that, I shoved her roughly sideways. She screamed loudly, and crashed into her bedside table, breaking it cleanly. A bit of wood very shallowly stabbed her in the stomach. Oh, I savoured that scream, so shrill, so terrified and pleading. It was luscious. She deserved this, all of it . . . It was her own fault . . .  
  
'Paul, don't!' she cried raggedly. She tried to crawl away, but I grabbed her foot and pulled her back. Molten rage exploded all around me, and I saw fire everywhere I looked. Dancing, black flames, crackling evilly, giving no light. And Suze was crying. I kneeled down over her, and smacked her face. She deserved it all . . .  
  
'I loved you!' I snarled. 'Don't you understand that? Love?'  
  
'You don't love me, and you never could,' she retorted. You have to have a heart to love-'  
  
I slapped her again, and she shrieked. I straddled her as she squirmed, desperate to get away . . . But I could tell she wanted this. She knew she had it coming . . .  
  
~* She had it coming  
  
She had it coming  
  
She only had herself to blame.  
  
If you'd have been there  
  
If you'd have seen it  
  
I bet you, you would  
  
Have done the same . . . *~  
  
' . . . Paul, please!' she screamed. I went to grab her wrists so she would stop struggling, but she began whacking me in the chest. I finally caught her wrists, and she yelled in pain. I remembered the rope cuts she had on them. Oh well, it was her own fault for letting Heather knock her out.  
  
'You knew I loved you,' I spat at her sourly, 'and still, you went out and found him? I told you who killed me, and you went to HIM to get your kicks. Well, Suze, that's just WRONG.'  
  
She screamed hysterically as I ripped her black cotton top open by the neck. 'AH! Please, please! Don't! Please, Paul, please,' she moaned, still thrashing about. Myriad tears were running down either side of her eyes like jewels, and her face was scrunched up in pain. Her whole body was shaking, and a bit of her black bra was exposed. 'No, Paul! Please, please- '  
  
Stupid devious bitch . . . All her fault. She was asking for this terrible pain. She was panting for punishment . . .  
  
She managed to kick me off then, God knows how, and tried to wriggle away towards the window on her stomach. 'No, no, no . . . ' she gasped and panted in terror.  
  
Oh no you don't . . .  
  
I dived on top of her again, and twisted her forcibly around to face me by her shoulders. I almost squashed them in my killer grip. She cried out in pain, sobbing recklessly.  
  
'You DO love me, you just don't know it. You've felt it before, Suze. When I kissed you . . . I felt it, and so did you. You know you did! You don't love Jesse De fricken Silva! You LOVE ME!' I roared vituperatively, bashing her head against the ground. Her eyes rolled up into her head, but came back. I didn't want her unconscious. I wanted to make her suffer for what she'd done . . .  
  
What she was doing to me still.  
  
'Oh, and that makes it okay for you to go sleeping around, does it?' she gasped.  
  
Bitch!  
  
I punched her in the head.  
  
'Please, someone help!' she screamed. There was no use calling for help. Everyone was out. I'd checked. I didn't know where they were, but I didn't care. We were alone . . .  
  
'Please!' she wailed . . .  
  
~* She had it coming  
  
She had it coming  
  
She had it coming all along.  
  
I didn't do it  
  
But if I'd done it,  
  
How could you tell me that I was wrong? *~  
  
Suze crossed her arms over her chest, yelping and wailing in terror. I fed from it, taking pleasure in every ear-splitting cry. She deserved it . . . I seized her bloodied wrists, as she was screaming, and forced them away from her chest. I slammed them on the ground. She tried to pull them away, but she was too weak by then. She arched her back, screaming and crying. Her legs were kicking and flailing wildly beneath me. She wouldn't give up thrashing though. Wouldn't give up the struggle. Soon she would. Soon she would have to accept the consequences of her actions. Her breath was ragged and rapid. I was sinking into the darkness in my own heart. I shut my eyes with a sick grin, relishing her undreamt of horror. My stiffened hands snaked around her neck, and began constricting. Her eyes went dead blank with hopelessness.  
  
If I couldn't have her, no one could . . . NO ONE!  
  
'Time to end this,' I growled at her, leaning into her heavily, squeezing her throat as my rage exploded. I roared in her face, thunderous and ultimate. I felt her pain channeling through me, as it stimulated me. 'Bye, sweetheart . . . '  
  
'Get off! Paul, please, you're hurting me!'  
  
Tears.  
  
She deserved it . . .  
  
'Ah! Stop! Someone help!'  
  
Blood.  
  
It was her fault . . .  
  
'Please!! Paul, don't!'  
  
The screaming wouldn't stop . . .  
  
She had it coming . . .  
  
'STOP IT! OW! PLEASE! PLEEEEE-EEEE-EEAASE!!!!' she howled in pure despair.  
  
Her terror was so addictive!  
  
She was choking . . . she –  
  
Dematerialized.  
  
~*~  
  
Suze's POV  
  
The last thing I saw in that room was Paul's face an inch away from mine with a fire in his icy blue eyes I'd never seen before. It was a dangerous, deadly fire, intended to kill. His temple had been pulsing madly, and his face was contorted in an ugly twist. I knew that he was going to kill me, as soon as he said, "I saw you."  
  
But I couldn't get out. He wouldn't let me escape . . .  
  
And just when I knew he was going to take me forever, the energy of my fear, I dunno, must have made me materialize. Like what Jesse said with that calling thing, that it happened in a time of great terror or something . . .  
  
Whatever happened, it had saved my life.  
  
I'd materialized to the rectory. I don't know why, it just seemed the place where I'd be safest. I could hide behind Father Dom, and let him protect me. Jesse was never to know about this. If he did, well . . . look, he wasn't going to know, all right?  
  
I swayed my way to Father Dom's little house thingie, and knocked weakly on the door. Hey? I'd taken a pretty freakish battering that night. I was having trouble breathing, and my wrists were really bloody now, after the way Paul had been grabbing and twisting them . . .  
  
Those ruthless blue eyes flashed in my mind's eye as vividly as if they were right in front of me. The deadliness was crystal-clear. He had been ready to kill me, to torture me . . .  
  
I screwed up my face against the throbbing pain in my skull. What with Heather's Paul antics, and Paul bashing me against the ground, I was pretty dizzy. Most people would have been rendered unconscious if that had have happened, but us mediators have like, a small immunity to that. Granted, yes, Heather knocked me out cold with one blow that first time she caught me off guard, but that had been lucky for her.  
  
God, when was Father Dom planning to open this door?!  
  
I knocked harder and rowdily on the door. 'Father Dom!' I yelled, my vision swaying. Oh, where was he? I wouldn't last much longer . . .  
  
Then, I heard the most beautiful sound in my life – footsteps.  
  
The door opened, and a tired looking, tall, snowy haired priest stood blinking at me, right before his expression moulded to a horrified one.  
  
Oh, it truly was a divine sight to see . . .  
  
'Susannah!' he gasped. 'What – what happened?!'  
  
'Good mornin' . . .' I said woozily, and promptly fell face first into his chest, out for the count.  
  
~*~  
  
I was only out cold for about five minutes. I know, he was kind of still yelling 'Susannah! Wake up!'  
  
I blinked mistily at him. Everything was a little fuzzy.  
  
'Oh, hi,' I burbled groggily. I guess I was lying on his sofa. I looked around. Everything was very classy, and old-man like, with lots of shades of brown and stuff. Ugh . . . You know the kind. Old people's homes always have 'em. I think it's horrible, personally, but who am I to go all interior decorator on him? But like I said, it was classy too, with the blacks and white everywhere . . .  
  
Oh, my priorities are just FINE.  
  
'Susannah,' he said, relieved I wasn't dead or something. 'Oh dear, what have you done to yourself?'  
  
'Nothing,' I said, surprised. 'Do you think I would do this to myself on purpose? I didn't do it-'  
  
'No, I meant that as in, what happened? Why are your wrists bleeding. And your face, it's simply black and blue.'  
  
I tried to focus my eyes on him. There were two upset Father Doms standing in front of me, merging in and out of each other as my vision crossed drowsily. A warm yellow light flooded his living area. I looked down and saw that my wrists were still dripping stubbornly.  
  
Oh great, I was staining the carpet . . .  
  
'Sorry,' I muttered guiltily, sitting up and putting my red ringed wrists in my lap –  
  
OW.  
  
Shit, sat up too fast . . . Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. The pain was overwhelming. I felt so deadened, like I had a numbing anaesthetic pumping through my body, everywhere but my head. Oh, God . . .  
  
Father Dom frowned heavily, then rushed to get a first aid kit. He came striding back hurriedly, and within five painful minutes, I had muffin-man hands. Oh, joy, weren't these attractive? I looked like the spawn of Puffin Fresh . . . Then, he moved onto where the stake of wood had gored me. Father Dominic, not Puffin Fresh. But by God, it hurt so badly. He awkwardly smeared a numbing alcohol wipe on my side just beside my belly button, and then fixed the wound up with this white material stuff. I winced as he applied it.  
  
'You really should go to a hospital, you might need stitches-'  
  
'No!' I said. 'I'll be fine. I heal quickly, it'll be great, Padre. Just, not a hospital. They'll call mum, she can't know about this . . .'  
  
He looked at me as if I was daft. Probably was, mind.  
  
I glared at my hands, but no, scowling hurt too much . . . I settled with a soft pout. He gave me a tablet that I assumed was a little stronger than an Aspirin, because the throbbing pain completely went by the next half an hour.  
  
Finally, we were sitting down on his couch. I was staring sadly into space, trying hard not to think about what had just happened . . . I didn't want to, but everywhere, I just kept seeing those blue eyes, glaring at me. They had been nothing short of murderous. That image would take a lifetime to fade from my memory. I could still plainly see the bubbling rage that shone intensely from his eyes with a burning fire that seemed to decay my hope. I had been vulnerable and powerless against a rage as strong as that . . .  
  
'Susannah,' he said, breaking the awful silence that stung me, 'You are going to tell me what happened, right?'  
  
I still gazed stonily at the bloodstain on his carpet. It was my blood. 'No, not really . . . '  
  
'Susannah,' he said in a deeply sad yet chiding tone, 'Please tell me what is going on. I need to know, if I am to help you-'  
  
'I don't need help,' I said, 'I'm dealing with it.'  
  
He raised his eyebrows skeptically. 'Oh, dealing with it very well, Susannah. Yes.'  
  
I crossed my muffin-handed arms irritably. 'Okay, this was all Heather. She's gone now. She's in Purgatory.'  
  
His eyes bugged out. 'You exorcised her?! After I specifically told you not to, Susannah! Why didn't you just leave her to me? I would have collaborated silently, and none of this violent nonsense would have happened. You're not invincible, you know, as much as you think you are.'  
  
'Ah, the beauty of hindsight,' I said tetchily. 'Ah no, she would have beat the shit out of you too. Oops, sorry, not allowed to say shit, right? Shit's like, a sin to say to a priest or something, isn't it?'  
  
His hands twitched. 'One would think you would've stopped saying it by now,' he said indifferently.  
  
Then his face broke into a huge smile.  
  
'Oh, Susannah, I'm just glad you're alive,' he said warmly, and gave me a gently hug. He smelt very church, with a strong aroma of inscense on him. I felt very safe all of a sudden. Safe from ghosts.  
  
And safe from Paul . . .  
  
'I'm not sure how you're going to explain this to your mother,' he muttered, and let go of me carefully. 'Well, I'll drive you home-'  
  
'No!' I shouted instantly, but regretted it straight away.  
  
He stopped dead and eyed me suspiciously. 'Why?'  
  
Screw the sinning . . . I was in deep shit . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ********  
  
Paul's POV  
  
Where . . . where'd she go?  
  
WHERE DID SHE GO?!  
  
I wasn't done with her yet! I leapt up and staggered to the window, holding onto the frame so hard, that the wood almost crushed in my grasp. I panted as the cold air bitterly filled my lungs.  
  
'Get back here!' I roared into the darkness of the night. My head was pumping with rampant adrenaline –  
  
Until I saw my hands . . .  
  
They . . . they were covered.  
  
In blood.  
  
Suze's blood . . .  
  
From her wrists.  
  
It had stained my hands. Dark, dripping, red and thick . . .  
  
. . . Time froze, still as death itself . . .  
  
I stared at it, and as quickly as it had built up, the rage left me entirely. I sank down to my knees, still staring at my hands. At my very own hands.  
  
My God . . . what had I done?  
  
WHAT HAD I DONE?!  
  
My God . . .  
  
I'd been so seduced by the unrivaled, intoxicating power, and I'd been easy prey to a deadly passion. I'd let the rage hijack me.  
  
And I'd almost killed her . . .  
  
I loved her, and I'd almost killed her . . .  
  
What had I done?  
  
Oh God . . .  
  
I'd just been so angry!  
  
I blinked at the window, at the pane of glass exploded into a thousand splinters with a tinkling shatter. The rage had been so ensnaring . . . Seeing her with De Silva . . . After he'd killed me . . . It wasn't meant to be this way . . . I was supposed to use Suze to get revenge on HIM, not the OTHER FRIGGING WAY AROUND!!  
  
. . . Or maybe he was controlling her to get back at me. Yeah, that's right.  
  
And I'd blamed her for it all.  
  
What had I done?  
  
Oh God. I was so close to murdering her . . . The woman that I had grown to love . . . I couldn't have lived with myself if I'd done it. And to think I'd thought that she deserved what I did to her!  
  
Forgive me, Suze. Please forgive me.  
  
The blood was still on my hands. I couldn't get it off unless I washed it off, it was Shifter blood. It was beginning to burn on my ghostly skin, as the blood of a Shifter has been known to do. I stumbled blindly to her bathroom and washed it off. It ran down the sink in a randomly diluted scarlet swirl. I stared numbly. . .  
  
Rage.  
  
I'd been a slave to rage . . .  
  
*  
  
No one knows what it's like  
  
To be the bad man,  
  
To be the sad man  
  
Behind blue eyes.  
  
...  
  
And no one knows what it's like  
  
To be hated,  
  
To be fated  
  
To telling only lies.  
  
...  
  
But my dreams, they aren't as empty  
  
As my conscience seems to be.  
  
I have hours,  
  
Only lonely  
  
My love is vengeance  
  
That's never free.  
  
...  
  
No one knows what it's like  
  
To feel these feelings  
  
Like I do  
  
And I blame you!  
  
No one bites back as hard  
  
On their anger  
  
None of my pain, woe  
  
Can show through  
  
...  
  
No one knows what its like  
  
To be mistreated,  
  
To be defeated  
  
Behind blue eyes.  
  
No one knows how to say  
  
That they're sorry  
  
And don't worry  
  
I'm not telling lies.  
  
...  
  
But my dreams, they aren't as empty  
  
As my conscience seems to be.  
  
I have hours,  
  
Only lonely  
  
My love is vengeance  
  
That's never free.  
  
...  
  
No one knows what it's like  
  
To be the bad man,  
  
To be the sad man  
  
Behind blue eyes.  
  
*  
  
... Behind my eyes...  
  
**************************************************************************** *******  
  
I know that a lot of you will strongly disagree with this chapter. Now I'm totally stuck for ideas. I only kind of planned up to here . . . So any suggestions? Please feel free to rant and rave in your reviews, just make them long, because I love long ones . . . okay, that didn't sound right. Size doesn't matter, it's the quantity that counts . . . Once again, EW!  
  
Okay, I'm scaring myself now . . .  
  
Regards, Princess Roxanne.  
  
PS: (Added on at a later date, after I posted all that ^.) I just wanted to say that I'm pretty sure I have a bullet proof plot for the rest of the story. It's not too crappy, and it's nothing too big yet. In the stories to come in this Paul/Jesse Swap Series, the plots are going to get darker, and even more unpredictable than this. Oh, and Heather's not quite gone yet . . . AND! I wanted to say a HUGE thanks to *Amelia Bedelia* for her endless ideas. You gave me so many! I'm think about using some, but I'm trying to fit them in so it will all work out to the idea I have planned for the VERY end. But thanks so much . . . You are like some miraculous cyber-muse. Lol... 


	12. Emotions

I'm glad that you think chapter 11 wasn't as notorious I thought it would have been among readers. So I don't suck so much? YAY! I thought I was going to be a total loser for writing something like that. I guess I didn't do as badly as I thought I did. *Wobbly smile* Oh, you guys rule, you know that, right? Well, Like I said at the bottom of Chapter 11, I think I've got a pretty good plot idea for the rest of the story. I don't want to do anything too extravagant yet, things like that will come in later stories . . .  
  
And now, ladies and gentlemen, I pleasure you to another chapter of "Twisted World" . . .  
  
I know, I'm a loser . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** *******  
  
Suze's POV.  
  
I didn't sleep at all that night. Well, duh, I was kind of at Father Dom's house, but still. I totally wasn't going to fall asleep, and leave myself vulnerable for Paul to kill. I mean, Father Dom was sympathetic and all, but since I like, didn't tell him the truth about how I'd acquired my second helping of injuries, he didn't feel there was any real danger of leaving me alone.  
  
But as I was sitting on his couch with my muffin man hands and my dully throbbing head, reality started to sink in.  
  
And oh, did it hit me hard.  
  
I'd almost died.  
  
And not in some little pissy battle between me and some random ghost. I'd known Paul. I'd slept in my own bed, with him just meters away the whole time. I'd had a conversation with him, even. I mean, he really wasn't that bad when he put his mind to it.  
  
But what he did . . . That hurt so much . . .  
  
How I couldn't fight back, how he'd been banging my head against the floor like that, throttling me, staring at me with such ferocity in his chilly blue eyes. He'd tried to kill me, and I'd been so powerless against him. He'd been too strong. I didn't think that there was a ghost stronger than me . . . Welcome to the real world, Suze. Things aren't as perfect as you thought they were.  
  
I mean, this was a real eye opener. Unfortunately, it was about as welcome as a terrorist attack. It proved Father Dominic right: I wasn't invincible.  
  
Oh God . . .  
  
I'd almost died.  
  
That's when the tears came on, fully fledged. They made rivers down my slightly swollen cheeks, and stung like toxic waste. I sat on the couch, cuddling my knees close into my chest. I felt as though I couldn't breathe through my bawling. I was hyperventilating and choking on my own sobs, the works. I couldn't stop, once the tears started. I was shaking, I was crying so hard. Just visualizing what had happened, over and over again. The bashing, the choking, the yelling, the blue eyes . . .  
  
It went on for hours, the same thing. I kept reliving it, remembering every dark detail as clear as crystal. How I'd been so helpless against his strength, and his determination to execute me.  
  
I never wanted to see that homicidal ass wipe again . . .  
  
Ever.  
  
It was just too painful  
  
~*~  
  
The sun was just rising through Father Dom's window. It cast murky daybreak rays in the gloomy sky, lifting the darkness from Carmel. My spirits didn't climb with the sun, they stayed scared and paranoid and distraught. Slowly and warily, I sat up and walked out from Father Dom's little . . . what do you call it? Convent or something? Anyway, I went for a stroll to the cemetery just outside the school zone, trying to sort out all the terrified and chaotic thoughts inside my sore and puffy head.  
  
. . . Was he still after me?  
  
. . . Would he go after Jesse?  
  
. . . Did he still want me dead?  
  
. . . What if he found me RIGHT HERE?!  
  
I stopped, but shook my head angrily and continued to the cemetery, where I sat under a tree near Heather Chambers' grave. I gave a shuddering sigh, as more dismal sunshine illuminated the sky with grey and muted yellow streaks. Everything looked grey, from the sky to the grass I was stilling on. There was a light fog encircling all the headstones. It reminded me of the Shadowland . . .  
  
'Suze, isn't it?'  
  
I was jerked sharply out of my thoughts. I turned around, with a thudding heart, scared to see who was standing there.  
  
But it was only Bryce.  
  
Thank God . . .  
  
I hastily wiped away my tears, and sniffed, trying to make it look like I wasn't sniveling hysterically. He sat down next to me. 'What was with the look?'  
  
I frowned distractedly. 'What look?'  
  
'You looked at me like I was the Grim Reaper or something. But then, you've probably already met him, and you'd be like, "So yesterday," or something.'  
  
I smiled in spite of what had happened to me. I turned my head to face Bryce. He was a real looker, in a surfie, blond, dim-witted kind of way. He had straw coloured hair that fell glossily across his forehead and into his eyes, and had a very lazy face, with sleepy eyes. Like Sleepy's. Maybe they had both been on something when they were alive that made them look that way. Because, hadn't Adam mentioned that they were friends? Yeah . . .  
  
'Er, should I go?' he asked uncertainly, going to stand up.  
  
'Nah, don't,' I objected faintly, 'Trust me, you being here is better than me being on my own. I've got issues, you see.'  
  
He looked a little weirded out. 'Uh, okay. What's up?'  
  
'The sky,' I replied dully. 'That large expanse of nothingness that goes on forever, and gives the impression that it will be a happy day, but it lies. Yesterday was a beautiful sunny day, and look how it ended . . . '  
  
I glanced at Bryce, and saw he was staring me in bewilderment, his mouth slightly open.  
  
'Sorry,' I said ruefully, 'I got a lot on my mind, is all.'  
  
' can tell,' he said, not too tactfully. 'What's your dilemma then, babe? Get dumped or something? I remember Heather when I broke it off, she . . .' He trailed off, looking aggrieved. 'Oh well, it doesn't matter now . . . She's not moping. She got the last laugh, when she shot me.'  
  
I turned back to him. 'She didn't kill you, you know,' I said softly.  
  
This was news to him. 'Huh? Of course she did. She was there, she wrote that letter on the wall. I know her hand writing-'  
  
'She was there, but she didn't pull the trigger on the gun,' I interrupted. I believed Heather when she said Paul murdered him. He seemed to have a thing for homicide by now, what with the attempted murder of Adrianna De Silva, and most recently, myself. Bryce had just been the real thing . . .  
  
'Who did?'  
  
'The same guy who tried to off me last night,' I revealed, staring at the grass, feeling lower than dirt. Remembering how I'd screamed, how alive his eyes had been, so aroused, enticed by my pain-  
  
'Yeah, I want names!' he said angrily, ripping up a tuft of grass and blowing it, so it carried in the only partially existent breeze, and landed limply a foot away.  
  
I wasn't going to give him Paul's name, for God knows why. But then I thought, hey, do I care what happens to the bastard? No, not after last night.  
  
'His name's P-' I stopped again. No, if Bryce went after him, it would probably result in something even more violent.  
  
'Yeah?' he prompted.  
  
I shook my head, and lied. 'Uh, Peter . . . no, Patrick? No, Percy . . .Oh, I give up, I don't know.' Ah, aren't I a first rate con artist? Yeppers, totally, that's so me.  
  
Sigh . . .  
  
His gaze fell. 'Oh,' he said, sounding lost again. He looked out beyond the school, opposite to where the sun was rising from. The ocean. So deceptively calm, and knowing. Still, and free from anxiety. Unlike . . .  
  
'God, if there's two things I miss,' he muttered, staring wistfully at the distant waves, 'It's surfing . . . And Heather.'  
  
That floored me. I twisted to face him. 'What?!' I gasped. 'But – but, she plotted your murder! She wouldn't have gone through with it, but she still inspired the whole thing!'  
  
He shrugged. 'I know,' he said, 'But I did love her. You think I'm an idiot,' he said – er, yeah, in a big way – 'But she was the first person I loved.'  
  
'And you broke up with her why?' I scoffed.  
  
'Because I can't stand commitment,' he said contritely, his eyes downcast. 'I got scared when she pointed to that damned wedding ring and all. It freaked me out, you know? Not the kind of thing that I wanted to be thinking about just then.'  
  
God, this was unexpected . . .  
  
'When I heard that she was dead,' he said monotonously, 'I was full sad, aye? I mean, yeah, I can't commit like that, but she didn't have to go and blow her brains out. I didn't mean for that to happen. I did love her, really . . .' He stretched, looking really remorseful.  
  
'So, what's your deal, babe?'  
  
I sighed, and repositioned myself so I was lying under the tree, not just sitting. I was SO tired . . .'  
  
'Well, that guy that killed you and tried to off me? Well, he kind of had a thing for me, I think. When he saw me kiss my boyfriend, he got way jealous, and went all, 'If I can't have you then no one will' on me, and tried to strangle me. Oh, that was after your Heather dearest, I'm embarrassed to admit, beat the snot out of me.' I pushed my hair back, and showed him the damage on my forehead. He whistled. 'Jesus Christ,' he wheezed. 'Packs a punch, doesn't she?'  
  
'And a kick,' I said bitterly. 'And plenty of dumb blond lines. No offense, dude,' I added hastily. He might get all pissed if I dissed his girlfriend.  
  
'Nah, it's all right. She wasn't the smartest,' he said longingly. Speak for yourself, Bryce. 'But she did love me. She died for me, Sue.'  
  
'Suze.'  
  
'Whatever . . .'  
  
My eyes fluttered. 'Crap, I'm tired.'  
  
'Then sleep then.'  
  
'I can't. I'm . . . er, nervous that he might find me and finish off what he didn't last night.'  
  
Bryce frowned. 'Oh yeah. See your point.' Then he brightened. 'I'll watch you. And if he comes, that'll give me a good chance to twist his guts.'  
  
Charming.  
  
'Well,' I said, 'If you don't mind, 'that'd be full cool. It's a real drag, staying awake all paranoid, you know.' I shut my eyes, and while he was still saying something, sleep claimed me.  
  
~*~  
  
'Yo, Suze?'  
  
Kick.  
  
'Get up, Suze. Up and away. Jeez, you in a coma or something? What's wrong with you?'  
  
Nudge.  
  
I peaked through heavy eyelashes. The hazy outline of a boy was standing in front of me. PAUL!  
  
'Get away from me!' I screamed opening my eyes fully and scrambling away from him . . .  
  
'Hey, Suze? What's up with you?' That voice, it wasn't as deep as Paul's . . .  
  
Adam McTavish was giving me a seriously weird look. 'You're not on anything, right?' he checked uncertainly.  
  
I rubbed my eyes. 'Just a nightmare,' I said. I looked around and just saw Bryce dematerializing. Well, at least he was polite.  
  
'What time is it?'  
  
'It's recess,' he informed me. Then he noticed what must have been a hideous abrasion on my face. 'Shit! Suze, what the hell happened to you?'  
  
I rolled my eyes, and stood up carefully. 'Oh, went to a polite tea party with four proper English ladies. Then they got pissed when I commented on their corsets and threw their scolding coffee at me. Really,' I said crabbily.  
  
He eyed me doubtfully. 'Uh huh. Come on Suze, you're really smashed up.'  
  
'Thanks,' I smiled mordantly.  
  
'If you haven't noticed, I'm actually being serious,' he snapped. 'Suze, tell me what happened. Did someone . . . bash you?'  
  
I gave him a sarcastic look of shock. 'Nah. Ya think?'  
  
His concern deepened. 'Oh God . . . Suze, what h-'  
  
'I don't wanna talk about it, okay?' I said, turning away from him. 'I'm not going to school. I already told Father Dom about it, and I'm not going home.'  
  
'Why?'  
  
I stopped. I shouldn't have said that. Now he's gonna know that there was something at my house that I didn't want to go home to . . .  
  
'Just, I'm staying here to clear my head,' I said in frustration, walking away. 'God, Adam, just go-'  
  
'No,' he broke in and followed me determinedly, looking all righteous and everything. 'Suze, if someone's harassing you, you know I'm here. I know I'm no WWF wrestler, but I'm a guy, and I'm supposed to be strong, so we'll just pretend for my pride's sake that I am-'  
  
'You're way in over your head,' I said, spinning around to face. 'Just . . . just forget about it, Adam. You don't know what you're dealing with. I'm not sure I do anymore-'  
  
'Suze, just tell me!'  
  
'No!'  
  
The air was thick with our furious shouting.  
  
'Why not, for God's sake?'  
  
'You'll think I'm crazy, so just piss off Adam, I'm really-' I started, leaving again, but he ran in front of me.  
  
'Try me! I'm not leaving until you tell me who's doing this to you!' he shouted, getting angry. 'You're a friend, and one of the strongest chicks I know, and if someone can knock you around that bad, then it's something worth knowing! Tell me! Suze, I'm ser-'  
  
'IT'S A GHOST, OKAY?!' I screamed in his face.  
  
What had I just done?  
  
He went very still, and his face paled a bit. He swallowed hard. 'What?'  
  
I buried my face in my hands, but surfaced, looking stubborn. 'I'm joking, can't you take a joke?' I said, and released a deadly fake chuckle. 'Really. It's nothing, I just fell.'  
  
'Whatever, Suze,' he said stiffly, still not moving. Not an inch . . .  
  
'But . . . a ghost? You mean, haunted houses, white floating sheets, rattling chains, unexpected "boos" ghosts?'  
  
I refused to answer.  
  
'Come on Suze,' Adam glared, 'Tell me the truth.'  
  
'That was the truth. Told you you wouldn't believe me. Now you just run off and tell my mum I'm still a mental case and that all that New York therapy didn't do a thing. You do that, Adam!' I screamed at him. I realized too late I was crying. I sank down to the grass again, hiding my leaking face in my lap.  
  
Adam's hand rested on my shoulder.  
  
And then, he said the three words I've never expected anyone non-mediator to say.  
  
'I believe you.'  
  
I froze horribly. Then I lifted my tear stained face to look at him. I saw there was no humour in his usually laughing eyes. He was dead sincere about this.  
  
'No you don't,' I answered, 'You're a nice sane person, give or take a few brain cells. You're messing with-'  
  
'Not messing,' he butted in. 'Suze, if you said that this was a ghost, I believe you. It's weirder than I can say, but I do. Face it.'  
  
I saw Adam in a new light at that beautiful moment in time. His face looked so rugged and genuine, not wimpy and light-hearted anymore. He believed me.  
  
He believed that I could talk to ghosts. Oh my God . . .  
  
I realized that my mouth was open, but I didn't even care. I just threw my arms around his neck, going 'Thank you, thank you, thank you . . . you don't know what it meant to hear you say that.'  
  
He patted my arm uncertainly. 'I kinda guess this is a big thing,' he said, his mind clearly blown.  
  
'You have no idea,' I whispered, hugging him. Oh, what a great friend he was. It was staggering that he didn't think I was a nut job. Everyone did-  
  
'OH MY GOD! I FULLY KNEW THIS!'  
  
I jerked away from Adam, and turned around to see none other than CeeCee. She was standing about five meters away, very rigid. But even from there, I could see her glassy eyes welling up.  
  
She turned on her heel, and bolted away. Oh, shit . . . What was she thinking?  
  
'Stay here!' I shouted to Adam, and sprinted after her speedily.  
  
One thing: Ever tried running with a black and blue balloon sized head? It's totally not cool.  
  
I reached the school, and saw CeeCee tear around the corner as if she'd just heard the library was giving out free books. Accept she wouldn't be crying as hard as she was now if that happened, you know?  
  
I pelted after her around the corner, and arrived to see the door to the ladies' swinging. Sighing, I slumped in, and saw that two of three cubicles were locked. Yay. These had been repaired since Heather demolished them last, mind.  
  
'CeeCee?' I called. 'I know you're in here.'  
  
'Oh, Suze, is that you?' bubbled an annoyingly familiar voice.  
  
'Shut up, Kelly,' I snapped. 'CeeCee, get your butt out here.'  
  
'No!' Her voice came out all crackled. 'Buzz off, Suze.' Only she didn't say "buzz."  
  
'Are you two fighting?' Kelly's voice came from one of the cubicles. I couldn't tell which one, though.  
  
'Nah,' I said indignantly, while CeeCee answered, 'None of your business, Prescott!' with a rather uncalled for "f" word in there. Whoa, CeeCee was giving the resident potty mouth Kevin Doyle a run for his money. She wasn't usually such a swearhead.  
  
'CeeCee, I'm serious. You saw that all wrong,' I insisted. I was just about to kick the cubicle door down when it burst open. I saw CeeCee standing there with the matchlessly ugliest glare on her face. Her white hair even seemed to have a Medusa omen to it. 'You kissed him, I saw you. How could you?' she hissed, her eyes in slits of fury.  
  
'Whoa!' I said. 'CeeCee, I gave him a hug. He said something really nice, and I gave him a hug. It is totally platonic between us, okay?'  
  
'Yeah, whatever, Simon,' she snapped.  
  
'Are you talking about McTavish?' the salacious Kelly wanted to know.  
  
'SHUT UP!' we roared at her cubicle, and she fell silent.  
  
She continued to glare. 'I don't know if you're doing this because you like him or you genuinely hate me, Suze, but-'  
  
'CeeCee!' I said, scandalized, 'Look! I don't like Adam more than a friend. If you haven't noticed, I'm not as healthy looking as I have been today. And you wanna know why? Some guy bashed me. Yeah, Kell, tell that to all your friends,' I snapped at her cubicle. 'Adam totally went defensive, and said that if I ever needed help with guys I was scared of, I could count on him, okay? I hugged him when he said that, because that is something a REAL friend would say. Last night I had the roughest night of my life, and Adam was there this morning to comfort me. Which is a hell of a lot more than you're doing,' I added spitefully. 'Are you happy? I'm a loser. I got bashed. Two points for me. CeeCee, Adam's a great guy. But I don't love him, and I'm not messing around with him. Jesus, I would never do that to you . . .'  
  
I watched her eyes well up again with a noxious look on my face. What? I really wasn't having a magnificent day, you know? Not too thrilled to bits, me.  
  
'Suze,' she said, her hand on her mouth in horror, 'Oh God, Suze, I'm so sorry-'  
  
'You know what?' I snapped, closing my eyes, 'I don't want to hear it. Really, Cee.' I walked out of there, feeling so low and ashamed of myself, it was unbearable. I could hear CeeCee calling my name, sounding heavily apologetic, but I didn't give a damn. Make her feel the guilt. Why did I have to be the only one with pain? Why couldn't I share this DAMN FEELING? It wasn't fair.  
  
But then, nothing was anymore . . .  
  
'Suze, please!'  
  
I was walking out the school, and CeeCee was still following me.  
  
'Go and kiss Adam,' I said bluntly. 'I'm not in the mood for this.'  
  
'Suze,' she ran in front of me, putting both her hands on my shoulders, 'Please, I'm so sorry. I'm the biggest bitch that ever walked the earth. I shouldn't have assumed that you were into Adam. You're too loyal a friend to ever betray me like that. I totally hate myself, please, I'm so sorry . . . '  
  
I stared at her in what I hoped was an inscrutable expression. I didn't want her to see how torn up I was inside, how traumatized I felt. I blinked at her steadily.  
  
And for God's sake, Bryce showed up then, right beside CeeCee.  
  
'Suze!' he yelled. Uh oh, why did he sound so mad? Oh, God . . . 'Some ghosts just told me . . . you exorcised Heather! As in, sent her packing!' he roared at me. I took a step back, trying to hide the fact that I had a ghost screaming at me from CeeCee. She was still looking desperately at me, but then frowned uncertainly, obviously at how wide my eyes had become.  
  
I couldn't deal with Bryce now! Take him back!  
  
But the guy was relentless. 'I just told you this morning what she meant to me, and you go and exorcise her! Why? Mediators are supposed to play fair!'  
  
With that, his eyes flashed, and I was totally thrown against a tree six meters away. I didn't expect that, and CeeCee didn't know what was happening. I crumpled to the ground. No, not now . . . Not after everything, please . . .  
  
And that's when a flock of scandal hunting sophomores, lead by Kelly, homed in on me. 'Suze, Kelly just told us about what happened!' rambled Debbie Mancuso, 'She's like, fibbing right? You didn't let a guy beat you up, right? Is it like, true?'  
  
'Yeah, and what happened to Juniperro Serra's fricken head? And the breezeway? Suze!' Brad's jock friend Scott sneered.  
  
'Bring her back!' Bryce yelled, advancing on me.  
  
'Suze, please say something!' CeeCee said, her eyes streaming with shining tears.  
  
'Fess up! We need to know all about it!'  
  
PLEASE! THIS IS TOO MUCH! NOT NOW! NOT AFTER ALL I'D BEEN THROUGH! THIS WASN'T FAIR! NOT FAIR! JUST GO AWAY, GO AWAAAAAAY!!!!!  
  
. . . And I shifted.  
  
I escaped the terrible mess that I'd created . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** *****  
  
Upcoming chapters are going to be better, trust me, but this bit had to be done before it, you understand, right? It's an important chunk for later on. PLEASE REVIEW. I can't believe the support I've gotten from anyone. I just love you all so much. You all know how it feels to get a really special review. Thanks so much for making me feel special. I thought this story was going to be a dud at the start . . .  
  
High regards, Princess Roxanne. 


	13. Numb

Okay, I'm at the library writing this . . . Because I'm oh so committed. Uh, yeah. Guys, those reviews are overwhelming, I'm serious. But I love being overwhelmed! And it was a crap chapter, too! You guys are the inspiration for everything, I swear. You guys rule so much. *Tear.* Just so happy!  
  
Okay, I will see how I do at this . . . I haven't got any of my planning with me, so here we go . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ***  
  
Suze's POV  
  
The oh so familiar mist swirled at my me. My legs were clothed and all, but still they felt numb with cold. My head wasn't throbbing from the injury, just from the emotional pain now. Everything was so dark here in comparison to the bright light of day. This Shadowland scared me to death, but I preferred being there than where I had been. Paul wouldn't kill me if there were twenty million students panicking over the fact that Susannah Simon had fainted in front of them. Sure, I was going to be labelled a "Major Loser" for the rest of my schooling years, but hey, it was better than being driven to insanity.  
  
I held me head, trying to dull the whirlpool of chilling thoughts, but they were unrelenting! Please, let it all go away . . . Why couldn't this just be some nightmare? Why couldn't Paul just be a nice, normal ghost who gave me smiles all the time? Why did he have to go all "I'm in love with you, therefore I'm going to kill you" on me? I mean, that is kind of a contradictory statement, right? He totally didn't love me. He was just messed up. Yeah, messed up . . . Maybe his mother tripped over during her pregnancy or something? Yeah. Just a little crazy.  
  
Well, if that was "a little crazy," I'd hate to see his full blown madness . . .  
  
I looked around at the portentous doors that lured me towards them with bitterly cold fog. I felt as if I was pulled to them, wanting to open them and see what I'd find. But I knew better. I wasn't going to, duh.  
  
'You do not belong here.'  
  
I deep, commanding voice parted the fog, and this total Russel Crowe wannabe stood before me, glaring. He was into the Gladiator style of dressing in a big way, with the golden shoulder pads, and thick leather chest armour, and even that kind of, you know, warrior skirt? Yeah . . .  
  
'Yeah, and you belong in the cinemas,' I snapped back at him. 'Cry me a river, buddy.'  
  
His hostile expression deepened. 'Leave. You are not a ghost, and you do not belong here.'  
  
'Go home to Xena,' I replied bitterly. 'I want to be alone.'  
  
'You do not belong-'  
  
'ALL RIGHT!' I exploded, throwing my arms in the air in frustration. Jesus, what did it take to get a little privacy these days?! 'Look, I'm a Mediator, man. I dunno if that means anything to you, but yeah.'  
  
Gladiator guy crossed his arms. Whoa, were his arms huge. I mean, you know those cartoon killer people with the tiny waist and legs, and then this huge chest and arms and really broad shoulders? It was almost comical. God, he was so muscular, it was literally overkill. Still, I didn't want to make him mad, if you knew what I meant.  
  
'Ever considered being a security guard?' I asked bluntly.  
  
He ignored that. 'Mediums cannot cross the boundaries of earth and the spirit world. You are lying.'  
  
'Er, well, how am I here then – oh . . . I'm a Shifter,' I said in a throwaway manner.  
  
His face changed completely. 'A Shifter? Well, that's different. Why are you here, Shifter?'  
  
I shrugged. 'Uh, well . . . you'll totally think that this is dumb, but I'm trying to avoid some people who are totally asking twenty questions back on earth, or whatever, a ghost who's pissed because I think I basically exorcised his girlfriend, and my best friend is just a –'  
  
I stopped. Oh my God . . . What had I done to CeeCee?  
  
My hand shot over my mouth. 'Shit,' I breathed. She'd been apologizing, CRYING even, and I'd totally just stared at her like I was watching a really bad movie. Oh God . . .  
  
I looked at him in an alarmed manner, but he just looked perplexed. 'You speak at in incredible pace, Shifter,' he commented impassively.  
  
Oh brother . . . when will people quite noticing that?!  
  
'Look, I came here to be alone,' I said. 'So if you would be so kind, Russel –'  
  
'Who is Russel?' he demanded.  
  
'Huh? Oh, don't mind, I'm just paying you out,' I said conversationally. 'You have a name?'  
  
'The Gate Keeper,' he replied, again, showing no emotion. Not even pride, or bitterness at being stuck with such a dead end job, or anything.  
  
Was this guy even human?!  
  
I snorted, kind of. 'Oooh, okay. Well, Mr Gate Keeper, what is it you want? Because I have just as much right to be here as you do, dude.'  
  
'I came to tell you, initially, that you do not belong here. However, upon hearing your status, I am inclined to tell you that your job is unfinished.'  
  
Wh – wh – Whah?  
  
I knit my eyebrows. 'Quit with the cryptic shit. What are you on about?' I said, getting more weirded out by the second.  
  
He didn't answer, just walked away. BASTARD!  
  
'Hey, Gate Guarder . . . or whatever, answer me! I am totally having a crap day, and I'm not in the mood-'  
  
'Follow me,' he said. Uh . . . okay . . .  
  
He led me to one of the doors way down the path. But . . . in front of it was something. What the?!  
  
I gasped. 'Oh my God . . .'  
  
It was Heather . . .  
  
She was curled up in a little ball, and was shaking like mad. Her hair hung limply by her arms. When I gasped for the second time, her head twitched, and surfaced rapidly, a look of utter horror on her face.  
  
Then she threw herself at my feet.  
  
I'm serious.  
  
No, not in the "I'm going to rip you apart!!" way, nah, in the, "Oh please, save me, save me!" way. She started full bawling on my shoes.  
  
'Suze! I'm so sorry! For everything I've done! I'm like, so sad, I know. I'm pathetic, I'm dogshit! Please, just don't leave me here with . . .' she pointed with a shaking hand to the Gate Keeper, who looked ever so slightly affronted. I raised my eyebrows. Thanks. Really. I came here to get away, and what did I get? A Hollywood A List impersonator, and a ghost who'd successfully made my mirror viewing horrendous.  
  
'Please!' she wailed, drawing it out so it contained many syllables, 'Please, Suze, you can't leave me like this!'  
  
I backed away from her in disgust. 'Well, technically, I can. Bashing my head with a metal pole didn't exactly inspire a friendly, warm feeling about you in me, Heather. Oh well, there's always next time. Let me know when you come back as a bull ant from Australia, or something, okay?'  
  
'PLEASE!!!' she screeched, her voice exploding in my head like a full on detonation. I winced. She tugged desperately at my shoes. 'SUZE, PLEASE! ALL I WANTED WAS BRYCE! I'M SO SORRY FOR EVERYTHING I'VE DONE! I'M SORRY I SLEPT WITH PAUL! YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME, I WAS IN LOVE WITH BRYCE, AND I WAS SO HUR-UR-UR-URT!!! Please . . . '  
  
I fixed her with a steely glare. She looked up at me, a look of hopelessness in her eyes. Her mascara had run, and had made dark semi circles below her eyes. Her hair was greasy, as it had obviously been when she'd killed herself, all depressed and all, and she was still way shaking.  
  
And all I felt was sympathy.  
  
I know, I know, I was going soft, right? But come on, that look would break anyone's heart. Even mine, obviously. Just the way her eyes were swamped with such misery and how they looked so lost and forgotten. I could feel my anger dwindling . . .  
  
I sighed in defeat. 'Heather, look . . . After everything you've done, I hope you realise that suicide was the worst mistake you ever made. Living is the only way to deal with your problems. Suicide may seem like a quick solution, but as you've experienced, the results can be pretty shitty-'  
  
'But how was I supposed to know about this ghost deal?' she sniffed, her bottom lip quivering as she looked up at me with wet eyes from the invisible glass ground. Fog half consumed her.  
  
'You weren't,' I said gently.  
  
She stared at me some more, and then hung her head. 'I'm such a loser . . . ' she whispered. I agreed – but not out loud.  
  
'Heather,' I said, 'Look. I'm going to do something that I wouldn't usually do, okay?'  
  
Her head jerked up to face me again, hope swirling into her eyes.  
  
I ran my hand through my hair uncertainly. Should I? What if it went wrong? What if the skank tried to kill me again if it didn't work?  
  
But another look from her did it. I gave in.  
  
'Heather,' I muttered slowly, 'I'm taking you back . . .'  
  
~*~  
  
Her mouth fell open. 'What?' she said with accidental harshness.  
  
I raised an eyebrow. 'What do you mean, what?' Was she blond AND blond? If that made sense . . .  
  
'What do YOU mean, "I'm taking you back"? What's that mean? You're bringing me back to-'  
  
'No,' I said firmly. 'Back to earth. I have an idea. I don't usually do this. But we've been through a lot, what with you trying to beat me senseless and all . . . ' She looked mighty ashamed. 'But you'd better not try to kill me, I'll send you back here so fast your aura will flicker,' I added severely. She nodded hastily, and stood up, fizzing with excitement. She gave me this huge hug then. 'Thank you! Thank you, Suze, you won't regret it!'  
  
I'm so sure . . . The girl was kind of killing me, but in a totally grateful way. Well, I'd be more certain of her gratitude if she wasn't suffocating me.  
  
'Are you sure that this is wise?'  
  
Huh? I shoved Heather off of me, and turned around. 'Oh, you,' I said to the Gate Keeper dude. 'Yeah, I'm sure. I think I have a way for everyone to be happy.'  
  
Everyone but me, off course.  
  
He didn't regard me anymore, just spun around slowly, and paced down the long hallway until I could no longer see him. Heather stood nervously in front of me. I took her hand. God, she felt cold . . .  
  
'Don't let go,' I added randomly. Then we shifted.  
  
~*~  
  
'Cee, just tell us what happened?!'  
  
Crying . . .  
  
'She just fainted, okay!? Fell to the floor, passed out. Capishe?'  
  
'Is she all right? What, was she stoned or something?'  
  
'SUZE IS NOT ON DRUGS!'  
  
'That'd explain a lot about her, the freak . . . '  
  
'SHUT UP, DEBBIE! JUST PISS OFF, ALL OF YOU!' Ow . . . CeeCee sure can yell . . .  
  
I was beginning to identify the voices now.  
  
'Simon? Are you okay?' That was Heather. At least she'd shifted safely.  
  
'Suze, wake up, come on.' CeeCee . . . she was crying.  
  
My eyes flickered open uncertainly. I saw the hazy world through half closed eyelashes. A group of people were standing around me anxiously, gossiping vigorously.  
  
'Look! She's waking up!'  
  
I sat up fast. There was no pain in my head, the first time for what must have been hours. I saw Kelly's cronies, a bunch of jocks looking sickly fascinated, Doc and a few of his geeky friends trying to peak between the horde of people, and there was CeeCee over me, looking terrified, with Adam standing behind her.  
  
'Suze!' she yelled, and flung her arms around me, doing an exact impression of what Heather had just done. It startled me a lot, and thankfully, Adam dragged her off and helped me to my feet, where he supported me. Doc promptly dived through the people and helped me on my other side. CeeCee stood biting her fingernails in frightened concern.  
  
'Cee, just go and get Father Dom,' I whispered at her. She concurred, and dashed away. Doc and Adam lead me over to one of the benches in the lunch area. A few people who were actually concerned if I lived or died followed, and kept asking if I was all right. Adam shoed them away, and then asked me if I was all right. I gave him a weird look.  
  
'Is this answer reserved for you alone?' I asked. He looked confused. I guess this thing where he now knew my secret made him think he was my great defender or something. Well, I could take care of myself-  
  
'OW!' I yelled, as a pain as sharp and cutting as a knife seared through my brain. I recognized it – I only got it after bloody shifting. Stupid shifting, stupid, stupid. I fell into Doc, and he supported my head uneasily. For once, despite all his knowledge in areas including medicine and first aid, he hadn't a clue what he was doing, or what to do. And his little crush on me wasn't helping. The pain was strong . . . I glared into my mind against it, but it began to subside very quickly, weirdly enough. I saw that Heather had gone . . .  
  
'Suze,' Adam addressed, 'what happened?'  
  
Shooting a furtive look at Doc, I answered, 'I brought Heather back.' Doc frowned, thankfully, not knowing what the hell I was on about. Adam looked dumbfounded. 'From the . . . you-know-what? Or just from you-know-where?'  
  
'Latter,' I said shortly, meaning the Shadowland. I'd told him that there was a kind of waiting place after death earlier. 'For Bryce . . .'  
  
'Bryce?!' he exclaimed, 'What's he doing here?!'  
  
I shot another look at Doc, but he still looked bemused. 'My job, Adam. Remember?'  
  
He stared at me. 'God . . . but people that you knew? People that I used to know? Bit rough, isn't it?'  
  
'Don't go all past tense on me,' I said sternly, motioning discreetly to Doc once more. He nodded in understanding, and then pulled his fingers across his lips like a zipper. Doc now looked annoyed.  
  
'What are you talking about?' he asked. 'I hate not understanding things, you know. It's really not healthy for me to, at my advanced level or intellect, not understand things, because I become frustrated and stressed and I begin to-'  
  
'David,' Adam said, 'Shut up.'  
  
Doc fell silent.  
  
I stood up, gripping my head hard. 'What's taking Father D so long? I need to tell him about . . . them two.'  
  
'David, go away,' Adam said. Doc looked outraged.  
  
'I'm helping as much as you, Adam McTavish! Give me one reason not to stay- '  
  
'Because I said so,' I spoke up. Doc looked crestfallen, and slumped away. I felt bad. Little guy had been just trying to help . . .  
  
Oh well. Stuff that.  
  
I tried to walk forward, but my knees gave way, and Adam caught me before I fell. He helped me over to near Father Dom's office, where I collided with the devil himself. No, Father Dominic is about as opposite of a devil as you're gonna get.  
  
'Susannah!' he exclaimed, 'My God, CeeCee here said that you passed out! Are you quite all right? Here, come in my office.' Adam steered me in, and plonked me on the couch. Father Dom waited for him to leave, being too polite to ask, but Adam stood behind me tenaciously.  
  
'Er, Adam?' I said, looking up at him, 'I need to talk to Father Dom.'  
  
'About what?' he asked.  
  
'About you-know-what.'  
  
Okay, now both Father Dominic and Adam looked outraged.  
  
'Susannah! Have you – you TOLD him?!'  
  
'Suze, is he a mediocre as well?!'  
  
With that, I burst out laughing.  
  
Hey, I was a bit out of it, okay? 'Mediocre!' I shrieked with laughter, 'He called you a mediocre, Father Dom! Isn't that funny?' I fell across the couch, cracking up completely.  
  
That both stared at each other, and then at me.  
  
Adam sat down next to me, whilst Father Dom went and sat by his desk, fumbling for his cigarettes. He was frowning heavily, so his wrinkles were very pronounced on his forehead.  
  
'Oh dear,' he said softly.  
  
I stopped laughing, and leant against Adam's shoulder tiredly. 'Huh? Oh dear what?'  
  
He touched his chin with his index finger. 'Susannah, are you saying that Adam . . . '  
  
'Knows that I'm a mediator?' I said more seriously, 'Of course not. why would I tell him I can speak to ghosts? He'd think I'm crazy, Father Dom. Wouldn't you, Adam?' I turned to him, smiling insanely. He just stared.  
  
'Susannah,' the old priest groaned, 'This is no time for jokes. You collapsed, from what I believe to be a concussion-'  
  
'No, I didn't,' I said. 'It was me shi-'  
  
Hang on . . . If I told him about shifting, that would lead to Paul. If I told him about Paul, that would lead to why I would refuse to go home. If I told him about Why I refused to go home, that would lead to Paul again. And Paul was not something I wanted to think about. It was still a very fresh thought in my mind that I was trying very hard to avoid.  
  
'Look padre,' I said casually, trying to cover up for the awful silence, 'It was about me shivering. Shivering. I was cold, and I passed out.'  
  
'That was lame,' Adam breathed inaudibly in my ear. I shot him a dirty look.  
  
Father Dom only half bought it. 'Well, you're not cold at all now, Susannah. But if you say it is so . . . '  
  
Why did I want to see Father Dom in the first place? It wasn't like I could tell him anything, right? I mean, the Paul topic was totally off limits. Totally.  
  
~*~  
  
It had been awkward after that. Father Dom had tried to dig deeper about what was really bothering me, but I was mulish, and wouldn't let him discover the truth. And after I'd left his office, I kind of had to stay at school. I know, I hadn't even changed, it was just WRONG. But, I wasn't going home, because of a certain mentally deranged dickhead, right? And I didn't want old padre questioning me in his office, either . . .  
  
So the only option was the Mission. Only I forgot about Jesse . . .  
  
Well, as soon as I saw him coming around the corner, I totally turned the other way. He'd so know . . . Jesse couldn't know . . .  
  
By the time school was over, my wounds on my face were almost gone – told you I heal way fast – and I'd successfully managed to avoid Jesse, which was a relief. He'd even dropped off all my exorcism stuff to Adam, who proudly informed him that he knew about my mediatorism when he caught sight of some of the stuff I'd described to him when I told him about exorcisms. But the only thing wrong was . . . where was I going to go now? I told Adam about my predicament, and he listened seriously.  
  
'Ah, you're in some sticky, sticky mud,' he said. 'Hey, just do a double propaganda. Tell your mum you're staying at CeeCee's because of a project, and tell Cee your parents are arguing and you don't wanna be in the middle of it. Simple?'  
  
I smiled. Wow, that was perfect. 'Simple. Okay, Where's CeeCee?'  
  
'Coming right at ya,' he winked. I turned my head, and saw the small albino making a beeline towards me.  
  
'Suze,' she said breathlessly. 'Are you-'  
  
'Don't you dare say it,' I snapped, narrowing my eyes at her.  
  
'-okay?' Adam finished cheekily. I slugged him, but not too hard. Hard enough for him to groan though.  
  
I asked her about my coming over for a few days, and after a quick call to her mum on her cell phone, she informed me that this was fine. This was pretty good, considering I'd only known her for a month and all. And a quick call to my mum, explaining that we had this big astronomy project that would take a whole week confirmed our plans. It was way easier than I thought it would be, you know. Almost too easy . . .  
  
Come on, Suze, you know you had to have had an easy break coming for ya . . .  
  
Yeah, I deserved a lucky break.  
  
After . . . everything.  
  
CeeCee's mum came to pick us up. She looked briefly at my light wounds, but didn't comment, not wanting to be rude. I felt like saying, "Take a picture, it'll last longer," but I caught myself. I hadn't seen any sign of Heather, or Bryce, I suddenly realized. I wondered vaguely where they both were. Maybe they'd already made up, and were out of my hair for good? Oh, please . . .  
  
Well, here's for hoping.  
  
We were halfway to CeeCee's house, when she suddenly piped up, 'But Suze, don't' you need your stuff if you're going to be staying for a while?'  
  
I stared at her, panic flashing in my eyes. My stuff . . . was in my room. And in my room was . . .  
  
'Yeah,' I said quietly. Mrs Webb rolled her eyes at my lack of organization, and drove me to my house. I will tell you, my knees were shaking when I walked up that driveway. So bad I almost collapsed again. But I couldn't do that in front of CeeCee and her mum. That would be weird.  
  
I walked through the open door, and was momentarily ambushed by Max, but I gave him an unceremonious kick, and he went scampering away. Then, it was up to my room . . .  
  
I stood at my door, just staring at it, hoping against hope that Paul wasn't there . . . I couldn't face him. I knew he'd want to finish what he started, and I wasn't in any better condition to hold him off than I was the previous night. I swallowed a large lump in my throat, and with a very dry mouth and a pounding heart, I pushed open my door . . .  
  
He wasn't there,  
  
I could have fainted with relief, but I didn't. I'd fainted enough today already, right?  
  
Breathing again, I ran over to my wardrobe and began randomly snatching out a week's worth cute outfits. Then I went and got my underwear; toothbrush, hairbrush, a couple of magazines, and my mediating belt. Hey? I took it everywhere. I threw it all in my schoolbag, and turned to leave-  
  
Only Paul was blocking the doorway.  
  
My bag slipped from my hands . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** **************  
  
Paul's POV  
  
Morning was worse than the night. I felt like I had slept of gallons of beer, only to wake up to a terrible hangover of reality. I'd almost killed Suze . . . She'd almost died because of me . . .  
  
Never, in my life, had I felt the way I was feeling now. Guilt. Not even when I had a gun aimed at Adrianna De Silva's head. No remorse, no guilt, no feeling. But Suze . . . There was feeling there. Lots of it. It was driving my CRAZY!  
  
All I kept seeing was her face, blank with horror. Her terrified screams lingered in my ears. I remembered my pleasure at hearing them, and I felt sick to my stomach. How could I have enjoyed hurting her like that?  
  
I sat numbly on my bed, staring at my hands. The Shifter blood was gone, but they still burnt. Burnt with guilt, more than the usual reaction to Shifter blood. I picked up the bottle that I'd been drinking from all day. It was ghost booze, and was very rare to come by. I tried to drink away the troubles, but they kept haunting me. Ha, haunting a ghost. How fricken ironic . . . My eyes kept seeing her beneath me, screaming for release.  
  
Screaming, screaming . . .  
  
Struggling, begging . . .  
  
Crying.  
  
"Please, Paul, please! No, stop, don't!"  
  
The bottle smashed in my hand, cutting my skin. The alcohol only made it sting worse. I saw my own blood surfacing from the scrapes, wet, and red.  
  
Not as red as Suze's.  
  
I was shaking again. Shaking in anger at myself. Of knowing what I had done. If only she would come back, then I'd apologize. I knew she wouldn't listen. Then I'd MAKE her listen! I had to make this fricken guilt go away!  
  
Selfish . . .  
  
I groaned, and rested my forehead against my fist, contorting my face against the pain. Still shaking. My head throbbed with shame. Utter shame, painful and hard as bullets can be.  
  
And trust me, I know.  
  
'Aw, screw this,' I snapped, and threw what remained of the bottle at the wall. It shattered, loud and chinking. Stupid grog . . . didn't do a bloody thing . . .  
  
I stood up, and dematerialized to get more . . .  
  
~*~  
  
When I got back, I saw her. If my heart was still beating, it would have stopped. There she was, looking weak and tired, yet still radiating with the beauty that I'd come to love and revere. I gazed at her. How could I have hurt this perfect creature? No, she wasn't a creature. She was a woman. A beautiful, independent woman. Strong, forthright, loving, gorgeous . . .  
  
And I'd almost killed her. I watched her hair sway as she threw a bunch of stuff into her bag. I didn't know what she was doing, and I didn't care. I'd make her listen to my apology. She had to know that I didn't mean what I almost did. She had to know . . . she was going to know . . .  
  
Then she looked up, and I saw all the colour drain from her face.  
  
She went white as the snow.  
  
**************************************************************************** ***********  
  
I know, it was another "glue" chapter. It's going to pick up next chapter, trust me. TRUST me. okay, now kindly review? I'm going to see if I can get up 2 on the weekend. TWO! See how much you review, that is. Go on... be nice?  
  
Okay, love you all so much, aye.  
  
Regards, Princess Roxanne.  
  
PS. Ideas are still welcome for future stories in the Paul/Jesse swap series. Lol, has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? 


	14. Aimless Arguements

Changed my name again!!! Sorry, I can't help myself . . . First Susannah's Secret, then Princess Roxanne, now Mystique Angelique! What am I ON?!  
  
Wow . . . the response in less than twenty-four hours . . . That was amazing . . . You guys are SO getting two chapters. I think three's a bit too much to ask for, you know? I still have piles and piles of homework, but screw school. Who needs it? . . . Okay, that was a stupid question . . . But yeah, don't worry, I like my school, but I loathe the homework, vile, evil, arduous crap that it is!! ARGH!  
  
Pipe down, Lolly . . . Whoa. (Oh, "Lolly?" That's my nickname. Call me that from now on! :) . . . ) Oh, and Kalilza? I changed that little mistake, thanks.  
  
Okay, here we go . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ****************  
  
*Last time . . . *  
  
I threw it all in my schoolbag, and turned to leave-  
  
Only Paul was blocking the doorway.  
  
My bag slipped from my hands . . .  
  
~*~  
  
Suze's POV  
  
My mouth fell open slowly. I heard the dull thud of my schoolbag on the ground, and I distinctly felt my heart speed up to a wild tempo. All blood evacuated my face, and my veins seemed to turn to ice. I felt very cold all of a sudden.  
  
'Suze,' he said.  
  
That was it. Just "Suze." He said it with a total unreadable expression too. I couldn't tell how soon he wanted to kill me, all I knew was that he did.  
  
'Get away from me,' I said, my throat very, very dry.  
  
He let out a short, loud breath, and leant off the door. He glanced down at the ground before locking eyes with me again.  
  
'Suze . . . I'm sorry . . . '  
  
HUH?!  
  
That fully floored me. He was actually sorry? As in, he was guilty about something? Oh my God . . . He didn't want to have another crack at throttling me again then.  
  
But that didn't change anything.  
  
'You're sorry?' I laughed unsmilingly, 'Sorry for physically attempting to oh, I dunno, steal my LIFE? That doesn't sit too well with me, Paul. Really. I'm the one that's sorry. Sorry for not exorcising you the minute I saw you.'  
  
I looked proudly to see that I'd hurt him. He looked really offended. Well, good. Ha ha . . . his own fault.  
  
'Suze, for God's sake, I'm apologizing here!' he snapped, stepping forward.  
  
'May I remind you that I don't want you anywhere near me?' I snarled. 'And come on, Paul. I think you and I both know that sorry just isn't going to cut it.'  
  
Where this was coming from, I haven't a clue. I was scared to death, but I guess I was doing a pretty good job at hiding it.  
  
I looked at his face more closely, and saw that he looked really buggered. I mean, way messed up. I didn't care.  
  
'Move,' I said, since he was standing in front of the door.  
  
'No,' he replied shortly, 'Not until you forgive me.'  
  
'Fine, I forgive you,' I said totally unconvincingly. It was the fear talking.  
  
'No, I want a genuine apology accepted,' he said grimly.  
  
'Well, you are not,' I snapped, 'going to get one this century, Paul. Or the next.'  
  
He stepped closer to me so that we were a ruler's length apart, and he slid a hand down my waist, and rested it on my hip, causing me to flinch. I felt myself shrink, and I kind of couldn't breathe . . . I looked up fearfully and oh.  
  
Those eyes.  
  
Those icy blue eyes . . .  
  
. . . As if cerulean poison was squirming in his irises. You have no idea what effect it had on me, seeing them again so close. So real. Danger! my Mediating intuition yelled. I felt myself being, most definitely against my will, sucked into his spell. What was he doing to me? I felt too terrified to even blink, let alone run. And breathing was becoming a big issue about now. The air that Paul and I shared didn't seem to be clean. Like it was contaminated. Dirty.  
  
I tore my eyes away from his, scooped up my bag, and tried to dodge around him, but oh so predictably, he caught my arm. My wrist, to be exact. And you know the story behind my wrists. They were taking a lot longer to heal than my face, most unfortunately. And when his iron grip snaked around my wrist, the result was excruciating! He twisted it around my back. Ow! I gasped, and looked at him with wide eyes.  
  
Mistake. Of the big variety.  
  
Again, his eyes began to entrance me. As if he still had some special shifter skill that had gone faulty in ghosthood, but he was trying to make it work on me again. I felt as though my knees were about to collapse beneath me again. I could stand, couldn't breath, couldn't think . . .  
  
'Stop this,' I whispered, my mind going almost blissfully blank. No pain, no thought.  
  
'You know you love me,' he hissed to me, drawing me into him. He pushed the small of my back against him. I inhaled and exhaled shuddering amorphous breaths that I choked on. I couldn't pull away . . . I couldn't even remember if I wanted to . . .  
  
'No,' I blinked vaguely. He looked down at me, unblinkingly. I wasn't blinking either.  
  
'Yes, you do, Suze. We were meant for one another. Old souls. I've said it before. There was a reason I died here, you're it. So give up the chase. De Silva's nothing to you. Nothing. Forget him. He doesn't care. If he did, well, I'd be exorcised already, wouldn't I? After . . .' he gave me a seductive, yet eloquent look, 'you know . . .'  
  
'No,' was all I could manage. I was hearing him, but I wasn't . . . Everything felt so perfectly calm and serene. No thoughts, no pain . . .  
  
Just Paul Slater's blue eyes.  
  
Not blinking.  
  
'Kiss me, Suze,' he said. His face was flawless. Ruggedly handsome, with a strong nose, tantalizingly soft lips, and blue eyes, light as ice . . .  
  
Ice.  
  
I felt so cold . . .  
  
'Kiss me . . .'  
  
His lips were so soft. Eyes so blue . . .  
  
What was I doing? Why was I kissing him?  
  
'Don't look away,' he hissed against my lips. My eyes were half-closed in my vague, surreal nirvana.  
  
Hissed . . . Unblinking . . .  
  
NO!  
  
With all my strength, I blinked, and staggered away from him, horrified. With a painful rush, all the snags of my life came flooding back so fast it made my head whirl with colours.  
  
'You – you . . . you hypnotized me!' I screeched, 'Paul, you – you DON'T HYPNOTIZE PEOPLE!'  
  
'You kissed me,' he said, smug yet defensive, 'You liked it.'  
  
'Hypnotized, dickhead?' I reminded him. 'That was a stolen kiss.'  
  
'Want me to give it back?' he asked, smirking.  
  
I went as red as the blood on my wrist –  
  
Hey! Oh, for God's sake, he'd opened the cut again. I stared in dismay at my wrist. Great . . .  
  
'See?' I held it up. 'You suck, Paul. Now let me go. I'm going away for the week, and when I get back, you'd better be gone, or you are so kaput. Got it?'  
  
'No,' he snarled, now determined, 'I'm not going! And neither are you, Suze!' He shoved me against my wall, totally forgetting about the "apology" thing. I turned around, but he twisted me violently. I gasped – I think he'd just wrecked the healing streak of that wound on my stomach, you remember? But shit, it hurt! I grimaced, but now, annoyance was assailing my fear. With all the buried force I could muster, I jammed my hands on his chest, and with power that astounded even me, I pushed him so hard that he flew across my whole room and out a window that was already broken, God knows how. I heard a dull thud as he landed on the concrete.  
  
'Hope you drown in your own internal wounds,' I said nastily out the window, and then bolted.  
  
~*~  
  
'What took you so long, Susan?'  
  
'It's Suze, Mrs Webb.'  
  
'Oh, Sue. I'm sorry.'  
  
'Mum, it's Suze! With a Z for zodiac.'  
  
'Uh huh . . . '  
  
'Me, taking so long? Er, I was looking for my er, Lit text book.'  
  
'Suze, you don't have a Lit text book. You don't take Lit.'  
  
'Oh, that's why I couldn't find it . . . '  
  
~*~  
  
Tuesday came all too quickly. It wasn't fair. I was staying at CeeCee's still, and the first sleepover night had gone well. Once her mum had warmed up to me, she was very nice, very bossy and very independent. Seemed so familiar . . . I wonder why.  
  
We both went to school the next day, duh, being a Tuesday. And there was only a faint mark on my face now, where all the bruising had been. See? Again, told ya I heal mega fast. And my left wrist was looking pretty good, too. It was only a little scabbed now.  
  
But my right . . . my right wrist was fresh.  
  
And my stomach one . . . Ow. Seriously, when I got back in the car, they were like, 'Suze, you got blood on your top!' I'd looked down, and there had been a small red patch seeping through on my top. I mean, even though the top had been black, you could still totally tell it was blood.  
  
God, Paul was deadly.  
  
Side-splittingly deadly. Literally.  
  
Tuesday. Only one thing happened on Tuesday . . .  
  
Classes were a drag, as usual. I had double history with Mr Walden, and Dopey and his jocks – friends, not underpants – kept paying me out about fainting the other day. That was until Mr Walden ditched a bit of chalk at him. That was pretty funny. Well, at least they shut up. Then, just as Adam and me had Physics after lunch, I totally saw Heather walk through the door, right through Kelly, who shivered frenziedly. She looked depressed. Heather, I mean, not Kelly. Well, that look seemed to be permanently pasted on her face, but yeah. I quietly whispered to Adam of her presence, and then got a hall pass to go to the ladies'. She twitched when she saw me leaving, and followed.  
  
'Simon,' she said, looking so sad, it was not funny. I mean, she had this kind of washed out, blank look in her eyes. 'What's the point in existing?'  
  
Did she know about Bryce being a ghost? I couldn't remember . . . God, I really wish he was here . . . Get Heather off my back.  
  
'Heather, look. I think things are going to turn out sooner or later,' I said sympathetically.  
  
'Someone call me?'  
  
I spun around, as did Heather, and just saw the last remains of dematerializing glitter fading around a very buff looking Bryce.  
  
How'd he get here like that? This was too much of a coincidence. I'd only THOUGHT of him.  
  
I turned, grinning, to Heather, and saw, to my alarm, her eyes all welled up.  
  
'Bryce . . .' she whispered almost inaudibly, a lone tear skimming her rosy cheek. Her eyes were swollen with unshed tears, and she was very stiff.  
  
'Heather,' he said grimly. 'I hear that your friend killed me.'  
  
Hey? I wasn't about to correct him on the "friend" thing; more like her one night stand . . . but yeah. I'm not vile, right?  
  
'Bryce, please forgive me,' she breathed. I noticed that she was doing a lot more of that. Breathing, I mean. Not that ghosts need to breathe, but she wasn't out of that habit yet. She was breathing way fast, so her chest was rising and falling very fast. It kind of looked a little comical, in a twisted sort of way. What can I say? It's a twisted world . . .  
  
He just stood there, staring at her with cold eyes. This wasn't good. Had I been wrong to do this? Had I –  
  
What he did next blew my "wrong" theory out of the water . . .  
  
He moved from his frozen position so fast, it only lasted a blink. All I knew was, he was standing still, then he had scooped Heather up in his arms, and was kissing her like she was the breath of life or something. It was kind of disgusting to watch, probably because I just think that Heather's so pathetic.  
  
'I'm sorry,' she gasped, full snogging him.  
  
'Forget it,' he said, his breath ragged. His hands were doing some serious work on her back. It was all very fast, and passionate. I mean, there were wild tongues in there. It was really starting to get gross in a big way.  
  
'Suze?'  
  
Adam had walked right through the forgiving couple, and they hadn't even noticed. 'What's up? Why are you staring so fixatedly and all into . . . well, nothing? What, a ghost?'  
  
'Two,' I whispered with a smile. 'Bryce and Heather.'  
  
He looked impressed. 'Really? What are they doing? He yelling at her for going all machete on him?'  
  
I raised my eyebrows. 'Actually, no . . . they're taking the phrase "kiss and make up" to new heights. In a really French way.'  
  
He grimaced. 'Really? That's be sick. Makes you regret being a meditator?'  
  
I chuckled. 'Mediator, you numb nut.' I turned back to Heather and Bryce, and saw they were like, a centimeter apart. Their noses were like, bumping against each other, and Bryce's sandy blond hair was looking really nice against Heather's slack golden locks. But the way they were gazing into each other's eyes was mega intense. Like, blazing. Hang on . . . behind them, there was a really bright white light. Was someone coming with some really dazzling torch, or something?  
  
'What's that?' Adam hissed.  
  
I looked at him strangely. 'You see that?'  
  
'Yeah. It's hard to miss . . . '  
  
I began to quietly commentate what was happening to him.  
  
Bryce had now slowed down to planting soft kisses on Heather's lips. 'I didn't know what I was doing, still living,' he murmured. 'Without you, it seemed weird. Something was always missing. I think . . . I think I even love you more than surfing, Heather?'  
  
The light was getting brighter, and brighter . . .  
  
'Really?' she sobbed in perfect happiness. 'More?'  
  
'I think so . . .' he frowned.  
  
'Oh Bryce,' she exclaimed, and they went all out with the tight embrace stuff. Oh well, it beat watching them French any day.  
  
Now the light was so bright that I had to shield my eyes. It was too white, so pure, it made me feel like I'd never sinned in my life. I felt elevated, cleansed, satisfied and happy all at once . . .  
  
I could hardly see Heather and Bryce anymore. They were two indistinct figures against a sheet of incredible whiteness. I could see they were holding hands, and walking away from me, into the light. But then they stopped, and I saw the misty legs turn to me.  
  
'Thank you, Suze,' Heather's emotional voice called, 'Thank you so much . . . '  
  
'We won't forget what you did, and all,' Bryce yelled, a fuzzy arm waving.  
  
I beamed, my eyes screwed up against the light. 'No biggie. Just doing my civic duty.' I was hell getting warm fuzzies then.  
  
I saw their blurred shapes walking away into the light, until they had faded into the distance. Oh my God . . .  
  
The light weakened, and died, to show the regular school hallway. Everything seemed so dark in comparison. I turned to Adam, who looked rather freaked. 'Er, Suze? What the hell was that?' Only he didn't exactly saw hell.  
  
I smiled, all mushy inside. 'Heather and Bryce won't be bothering us any more . . . They've moved on, Adam.'  
  
I'm so good, aren't I? La . . .  
  
~*~  
  
Lunchtime started off all right. I was eating a very nice sandwich that CeeCee's mum had made me, you know? Homemade peanut butter, that melted in my mouth. Probably gave me a couple of extra chins too, it was that buttery, but it was still nice as. Yum. Adam and I now felt really . . . connected, I guess is the only word. Connected, after both of us saw that "crossing over" thing.  
  
With John Edward.  
  
Sorry, I had to say that. You do realize that he is a mediator, right? He just pretends not to look at the ghosts while he's doing his thing. Maybe I should do what he does . . . make some money, right?  
  
Which is more than I do now –  
  
'Suze? You still alive?' CeeCee was asking. 'Why were you out of Physics so long?'  
  
'She was constipated,' Adam chirped. 'They say it takes a long time . . . '  
  
I whacked him one over the head, and he swore pleasantly. That was when I felt a hand on my shoulder, and me being extremely jumpy, I grabbed the hand, and totally pulled the culprit over my shoulder, and crashing onto the table.  
  
Right into my peanut butter sandwich, and Adam's jelly.  
  
It was – surprise, surprise – Jesse.  
  
Everyone turned to look, and began laughing hysterically. I blushed furiously, and began apologizing profusely.  
  
'Shit, Jesse, I'm SO sorry! Oh my God! I'm sorry, I'm so –'  
  
'Please, querida,' he scowled, 'We need to talk.'  
  
'About . . . stuff?' Adam looked at me with a perky grin. 'I'll come.'  
  
'En privado,' Jesse said frostily. Adam deflated totally. We all could guess that he meant "in private," or something.  
  
With everyone still looking at us weirdly, Jesse ushered me into a vacant classroom.  
  
'You do not know how hard you are to get hold of, Susannah,' he said seriously. At first, I thought he mean, like physically, and I was about to say, "Yeah right," referring to how easy Paul had been finding it lately, when I realized he only meant to talk.  
  
'Oh yeah, I'm a busy woman,' I joked. I didn't want to talk. Nope, no talking. Hate talking.  
  
'Susannah,' he said gravely, 'I remember what you looked like Sunday night. You were hurt. But . . . yesterday morning, Susannah . . . you were worse.'  
  
No . . . this was what I didn't want him to notice. No, no, no!  
  
'What? I, um, I had a really hard walk home?' I squeaked, until my voice went so high it was embarrassing. I stopped, and stared at the fascinating ground, observe how dirty it was . . .  
  
'Susannah,' he said abruptly. I jerked my head up, and looked him in the eyes. Oh, God. They were so gorgeous, so brown, and so intense . . .  
  
I melted completely.  
  
'Jesse,' I began, but he came to stand like, right over me. I looked up at him with wide eyes, and I was breathing really quickly again . . . Oh, Jesus. He was so close to my face. If I stood on my tip-toes, I could so easily kiss him. That would be, of course, under completely different circumstances. Right now, he was kind of glaring at me, demanding the truth. I quailed a little. He couldn't know . . . I didn't even want to think about what would happen if he found out. He;d get himself killed! Paul was the strongest ghost I've ever faced, I swear-  
  
'Susannah,' he repeated, this time in a very demanding tone, which was kind of louder than before, 'Tell me what is going on. Now.'  
  
'I – I . . . ' I stuttered, but realized it was pointless, and went to go, but his hand shot around my hip. I cried out loud – he'd touched my wound – and doubled over in pain. Hey? It hurt, okay?  
  
'Querida!' he declared, stunned, 'I'm sorry, did I hurt you?'  
  
'Uh, yeah?' I snapped. 'Just go away, I'm not telling you about P-'  
  
My hand shot to my mouth. I'm such a LOSER!  
  
Like thunder, his expression changed. After the realization hit him, his face contorted in anger.  
  
'Paul Slater?!' he asked, aghast, 'Paul did this? That el hijo de una RAMERA!'  
  
I took a step back. 'Jesse, stop it. I don't know what you're talking about.'  
  
'You just said, "I'm not telling you about Paul!"  
  
'I did not!'  
  
'Yes, querida, you did.'  
  
'No, no, no! I said, "I'm not telling you about the pain. Jesus, what do you have against Paul anyway?' He gave me a weird look, and was about to argue, when I redeemed myself, 'Okay, yeah, I got that, but you blame everything on him! I mean, holy shit! I've only seen him like, what? Three times? And all he does is swear his head off about you. Nothing else. Doesn't touch me, okay? Cool it, Jesse. You need a time out.'  
  
Well, that sounded damn believable, if I do say so myself.  
  
Too bad I couldn't convince myself . . .  
  
The weird thing was, he looked even more irate. If the way his scar starting, well, glowing, was any indication. 'Susannah, por favor! I know that you are lying, el dios lo maldice!'  
  
I stepped back from him, panting hard. 'For God's sake, Jesse! Just – stop worrying about me! I can take care of myself, Rico Suave!'  
  
'Rico Suave? That's what Paul called me,' he said accusingly, narrowing those black, liquidy eyes . . . I gulped.  
  
'So? I remembered it, all right? See, jumping to frigging conclusions, you are!' I spat at him – not literally, ew. 'Leave me alone!'  
  
'Yeah,' said a new voice. We both turned our heads sharply to face the door. Adam stood there, looking all defensive – again. Okay, this was starting to get a little irksome, you know? With the whole, I-know-your- secret-I'm-your-hero-and-you're-a-defenseless-kitten thing? Yeah, not cool. 'She said leave her alone, De Silva.'  
  
I stared at him incredulously. And not in the awed way. In the kind of, "Er, are you serious?" way.  
  
Jesse was giving him a similar look. 'Look, uh, Adam, this is not a good –'  
  
'She said leave her alone!' he yelled, and came right up to Jesse, pushing him roughly in the shoulders, 'So listen to her, or you'll have to answer to me.'  
  
I burst out laughing. I'm sorry, it was just too much.  
  
'Adam, just, it's not that I'm not grateful, really,' I said, trying to hold down the laughter. Honest! 'But, like he said, not a good time. Please . . .'  
  
'For God's sake, Suze, he's a murderer!' he shouted at me, looking a little hurt all the same. I felt bad. He was only trying to help, but it was getting me really miffed.  
  
Jesse shot me another accusing look. 'I thought we talked about –'  
  
'We did!' I screamed, practically tearing my hair out. 'I just didn't tell them about it, you know? They weren't up with the whole damn ghost thing, okay?'  
  
'Is he harassing you too? Because after what you told me about that Paul guy, well, you've got a lot of enemies, Suze,' he commented crossly.  
  
No, Adam.  
  
He didn't just say that . . .  
  
I didn't want to look at Jesse.  
  
'Adam, please leave,' Jesse said, his voice rumbling very softly . . . I could hear the fury buried in his voice. Oh, SO not good. I looked obstinately – and with shame – at the floor. He couldn't see my eyes, and how close to tears they were. I could feel them stinging.  
  
Adam turned away angrily. 'Fine,' he snapped.  
  
'You know what?' I squealed, 'I'm coming with you, Adam –'  
  
'Suze, you are staying here and telling me the truth!'  
  
'Adam, you totally landed me in it!' I yelled after him as he left the room in an outraged huff. And I looked up into those eyes of his.  
  
Oh, shit . . .  
  
They were burning. Nothing compared to Paul's, but not far off.  
  
I felt my breath running out. I touched my face lightly, trying to avoid his glare.  
  
'You lied,' he said bluntly. 'Susannah, don't lie to me.'  
  
'Don't tell me what to do!' I yelled at his face, flinging my hands out. 'I can take care of myself!'  
  
'Clearly not,' he rebutted, motioning to my wrists and my waist. I rolled my eyes and groaned.  
  
'Look, this is NOT your problem!'  
  
'It is! I killed him, it's my fault that he's hurting others. Hurting you, Susannah!'  
  
'What do you care?' I snapped. 'Just piss off! I'm serious, Jesse, or I will personally kick your arse. I will!'  
  
'I bet you will,' he laughed heatedly. 'Just like you have kicked Paul's. Very funny, Susannah.'  
  
'You know what's very funny? How stupid you are. You act like you're some all-powerful shifter,' I said, making spooking hands. 'But you're not! I haven't seen you do a bloody thing with any ghosts I've seen around. Jesse, you suck. I'm going to deal with Paul, if you'd just STOP breathing down my back!'  
  
'Susannah, I'm trying to protect you!' he roared at me, his face jerking around with each teeth-clenched word.  
  
'You got a pretty shitty way of showing –' I would have continued, but the way he grabbed my shoulders suddenly, drew me into him and began to kiss me passionately, well that was a little distracting. I sank into him, my hands deviating to his muscular arms gently. He was far angrier in this kiss. Harder, more rugged. And so was I. Fired, and intense. I frowned against the pain I was feeling. I felt like I was being split down the centre. I was feeling too bloody much lately. But right now, I was feeling so much angry, and furious love that I felt it was going to burst out of me like I was some volcano of passion or something.  
  
Well, burst out of me in a bigger way that this kiss, I mean . . .  
  
I pulled away, gasping for breath. He held me very close to his face, gasping also.  
  
'Susannah,' he panted, 'Susannah –'  
  
'Jesse, just trust me, okay?' I begged. The tears were threatening now, in spite of all kisses and zealous embraces.  
  
He was glaring at me and panting at the same time. 'I – I –' But he was kind of interrupted too, when I smashed my mouth against his again. My arm flew around his neck, and he pulled me against him, but not in a brutal way that Paul would probably do it. In a way that was fiery, yet still respecting to a degree. But this kissing was painfully sweet. Oh, pain, pain, pain . . .  
  
Again, we quickly stopped. My heart rate was really, really quick now, and my breathing was two breaths a second, you know? He rested his forehead down against mine, also breathing hard.  
  
'Susannah, go out with me, Friday night,' he gasped, kissing my forehead lightly. He ran his thumb down my cheek and swept my hair back. I knit my eyebrows. Shit, did I have a headache. I hid my face in my hands, which were kind of trembling.  
  
Hang on . . . a date?  
  
I resurfaced, looking only slightly perky. Okay, suddenly quite delighted. Well, at least mum would be over the moon.  
  
'Yes, a date,' he said, looking at me levelly.  
  
I tried to hide the smile, but it spread over my face like an infectious plague, and totally made me look dorky. But I couldn't help it. A date . . . my first proper date.  
  
OH MY GOD!  
  
'Okay,' I bubbled squeakily, trying to maintain composure and sophisticated. But since I'm never sophisticated, it was kind of hard to do that.  
  
And, since that Saturday night when he took me horse riding on Zephyr, his face broke out into the truest smile I've ever seen. All the anger dissolved, and left his eyes looking loving and content. He twisted my dark hair around one of his fingers, which resulted in a curious flutter in my pulse.  
  
'Well, querida,' he said in the silkiest voice I've ever had the good fortune to hear, 'I'll see you Friday, at eight.'  
  
'Pick me up from CeeCee's house,' I added, trying hard not to smile so dreamily. I mean, I looked like a major goof. MAJOR.  
  
His dark eyes were smiling at me, and a smirk was tugging at his lips. But again, it had nothing in common with Paul's smirks. Paul's were mocking, and cruel. Jesse's were good natured, and pleased.  
  
And in love with me . . .  
  
That was the best thing of all.  
  
**************************************************************************** *************  
  
Is that enough to quench your Jesse thirsts? I hope so for now . . . sorry they were kind of angry, but, well, sorry. It's just the story. Okay, now REVIEW, or I won't put the other chapter up tomorrow, guys!  
  
Regards, Mystique Angelique.  
  
PS. Whaddoya fink of my new name, huh? And give me ideas for next stories, as in Ninth Key, Reunion, and Darkest Hour, okay?  
  
Love you's all SO SO MUCH!!! 


	15. Snow White

Okay, I've deleted that author's note, and I think that all the reviews for that chapter get deleted too. I mean, it's not fair to just let all those sympathy reviews clog up the story ones. I just want to take a moment to say how deeply, truly touched I am. All of you, you are so beautiful, what you all said and how sensitive you were. Thank you so, so much. I hope you like the chapter, I really do . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ************  
  
Wednesday passed without event, except that Dopey got his pants caught on a door handle as he was passing to go to P.E, and kind of ripped. That brought the house down, that did. But other than that, nothing much happened at school, and on Thursday, Father Dom demanded to know exactly what I'd done to Heather and Bryce, thinking I'd exorcised them. I set him straight, and then he went and harangued my about the collapsed breezeway and the now headless Father Juniperro Serra. Oopsie. I told him I didn't know what the hell happened, but he seemed to think it happened during our fighting. Maybe it did, but I was so sure that Heather didn't knock it off . . . Maybe I'm missing something?  
  
Anyway, that Thursday afternoon, me and CeeCee were having a big Buffy marathon. She has all the videos up to Season 6, and we just kept on watching all the funny ones again, like "Once more, with feeling," Tabula Rasa," "Gone," "Something Blue," and I think the other one was "Hush." By one o'clock, we'd learnt all the songs from the musical extravaganza, "Once more, with feeling."  
  
'It could be witches, some evil witches,' I rapped.  
  
'But that's ridiculous, 'coz witches, they were persecuted, wicked good and love the earth and women power, and I'll be over here,' she sang rapidly, quoting Xander. We both cracked up, and I ditched a pillow at her.  
  
I dug my hand into the bowl of popcorn her mum had prepared, and scoffed a handful in a rather unladylike manner.  
  
'If you don't like the way I drive, then get off the sidewalk!' I yelled, and we both giggled hysterically. I threw popcorn at her. 'And, if life gives you lemons, squeeze the juice into a water gun and squirt it into other people's eyes!'  
  
'No, this one! If your treat a woman like an object, that's just wrong . . . but if your treat and object like a WOMAN, that's just DISGUSTING!'  
  
We roared with laughter, and I had a stitch now. Ow . . .  
  
'Suze,' she said, suddenly serious.  
  
'Popcorn?' I offered the bowl. She gave me a hard look. Okay, major stuff then. 'Yah huh?'  
  
She sighed heavily. 'Look, be honest, I can take it . . . Do you think I have a chance?'  
  
I blinked, and slurped on my can of Vanilla Coke. 'Er, a little more description would help. I mean, of course you have a chance, say in getting say, Homecoming Queen. I just, er, don't think you will-'  
  
'Suze,' she snapped, 'Seriously. I mean with Adam. I mean, he's obviously obsessed with you.'  
  
I choked into the Coke can.  
  
It kind of dribbled out of my nose, too.  
  
But yeah.  
  
'What?!' I demanded, my eyes critical, and my nose running painfully. Has that ever happened to you? It HURTS, man!  
  
She gave me a jealous look. 'Oh, come on, the way he's been hanging around you, talking to you in hushed voices, it's a bit noticeable. I mean, you're not exactly hiding the relationship.'  
  
'Relationship?' I squeaked, and then burst out laughing. Nose still stinging . . . 'My God, NO! Adam, I just told him something, and he seems to think it concerns him. It doesn't. There's no relationship, Cee. I don't like him, he don't like me, okay?'  
  
She glared a little more, with her lip sticking out a little, but then sighed. 'Sorry, Suze. It's just, I've liked him since forever, and he doesn't even know I'm alive.'  
  
Ha . . . that would be a whole different story in my world . . . Alive.  
  
Her head drooped down, and she turned off the TV, so Sarah Michelle Gellar and James Marsters' face zoomed into a tiny squared and then into blackness.  
  
'Cee,' I said, 'I think you should ask him out.'  
  
She looked at me as if I'd just told her high grades in History counted for nothing. 'No, Suze, that'd be so stupid! He'd totally say no. He . . . ' she trailed off, looking very depressed all of a sudden.  
  
I clicked my tongue supportively.  
  
'I mean,' she burst out, 'you're going out with that Jesse guy! Now, there's some major eye candy, Suze. You're always so lucky.'  
  
Always? Uh huh . . .  
  
I snorted cynically. 'I wish, Cee.'  
  
'No, really!' she continued, 'I mean, Jesse De Silva. He's Spanish, isn't he?'  
  
'Latino.'  
  
'See? Latino! Yummy, yum yum. I could never rope down one of them.'  
  
'Sure you could,' I said. 'You're all pretty and smart, and stuff. All I have going for me is . . . the fact that my toes aren't munted. Have you ever seen those really long, bendy toes? I SO don't have screwy toes. And I punch hard, too.'  
  
She rolled her eyes. 'Get over yourself, Simon. You're a huge catch.'  
  
'Am not!' I shouted indignantly, but realized a little late that it was a compliment, not an insult.  
  
It was almost five now . . .  
  
I then tunneled into my bag to get out my pajamas, only to find that I was clean out of them.  
  
'Oooh, crud,' I said thoughtfully.  
  
'What is it?' She sounded mega gloomy now. Great. CeeCee in a sook? Yeah, not so hot.  
  
'I'm out of clothes,' I told her, incredulous.  
  
She shrugged. 'Borrow mine.'  
  
'Nah,' I said, 'I'll just go over to my house and get s-' I stopped, and my eyes glazed over.  
  
Er Suze? Remember last time? Not your brightest idea . . .  
  
I turned away from CeeCee quickly.  
  
'Suze? What were you saying?' she asked, frowning and crawling over to face me.  
  
'Oh, nothing, just, last time mum and Andy were kind of, well, crabby. That's all.'  
  
She looked sad for me. 'Do you want me to go and get some of your stuff?'  
  
No, don't let her go. Paul will get her. Paul will kill her! Paul will –  
  
Not even touch her, Suze, she's not a mediator. Remember?  
  
Oh yeah.  
  
Brightening up, I smiled. 'Okay then. Can you get me some underwear, a couple of tops, and a few pairs of pants, you reckon?'  
  
She grinned. 'No biggie. Let me go now.'  
  
~*~  
  
CeeCee's POV.  
  
I don't know what was up with Suze. When I walked over – we don't like too far away – her mum answered the door and seemed to be in a decent mood. Not the mood of someone who was fighting with her new husband. Strange . . .  
  
I put it out of my mind, and went up to Suze's room.  
  
Whoa . . .  
  
I raised my eyebrows as I absorbed all the smashed glass on the floor. Everything was sheer bedlam. The window was broken, and everything as really knocked around. Maybe this was where Brad practiced his wrestling? Or his foreplay?  
  
o.O  
  
Okay, even I know how gross that was . . .  
  
Shrugging off the fact that my friend's room was in turmoil, I wandered over to her wardrobe, and picked out a few outfits that I thought looked nice. Well, whether Suze agreed was a different story. I mean, I like slacks, she likes cargo pants. I liked polo shirts, she likes V necks and tank tops. Mind, I can't be flaunting my albino skin around too much, but still, I always look classy, if I do say so myself. I can just see the say when Suze runs off to enroll in the Prescott Pussycats already.  
  
Again, that was mean.  
  
And just . . . weird.  
  
I stuffed the garments into a plastic bag, and was about to leave, when I noticed something weird near the window.  
  
A book.  
  
No, it wasn't something like, uh, "Critical Theory since Plato" that I knew Suze would NEVER read.  
  
Yeah, this book was a Danielle Steel book. But it wasn't the actual title I was concerned about, or whatever.  
  
Nah, this book was kind of floating.  
  
For your benefit, I will repeat: FLOATING.  
  
I smirked, and walked right over to it, waving my hand over the top. No fishing line, weird. I frowned suspiciously at the book, looking at it from all angles, trying to find what was keeping it up there, when it just zoomed at me completely, and knocked me hard on the forehead.  
  
'Ow!'  
  
My hand shot to my head. That was so rude! That had been unfair! That –  
  
. . . was illogical.  
  
How –? What had happened?  
  
This was getting way freaky now. I turned towards the door, but I saw that, on Suze's bed, the sheet was rising.  
  
Floating.  
  
Without anyone touching it!  
  
There seemed to be a shape beneath it, like – like a person or something, but – but there wasn't anyone there! No one!  
  
My mouth fell open, and a scream was being born in my throat –  
  
That's when a hard force behind the sheet shoved me to the ground, and clamped an invisible hand over my mouth to prevent me from screaming . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ********  
  
Paul's POV.  
  
It was another day. Another day of letting my mind torture me, and making me relive the incident of my attempted murder.  
  
You're a murderer, Paul.  
  
Murderer . . .  
  
Doesn't that word sound so damn condemnatory? So long, evil, drawn out, said with spite and odium, with pursed lips. A word that seems to slip from one's lips so easily, but with great motive.  
  
Muuuuuuurrdererrrrrr . . .  
  
Anger and hatred were kicking me around like some dirty rag, stamping on me like I had a cockroach under me. I felt like I was shit. No, I was shit.  
  
Muuuuuuuurrdering ssssssshiiiit . . .  
  
Oh, happy day.  
  
Staring out the broken window all day, watching the see from so far away, and visualizing her walking back into my afterlife, forgiving me, well that was getting really dumb now. Because it was about as likely as her dying at 80 a virgin: it wasn't going to happen. Not if I could help it. And God, did I want to help.  
  
But no.  
  
She hated me.  
  
Passionately.  
  
Funnily enough, I think I loved her passionately.  
  
Because, was this love? Or lust? I couldn't tell the difference. I knew that there was something inside making me disintegrate into black dust, making me squirm for her, sending me glorious, dark mirages of her, making me beg for her . . .  
  
And begging is not something I have ever stooped so low for, I'll have you know.  
  
So, this dark love was turning into obsession.  
  
I had to have her.  
  
I don't lose.  
  
I don't lose.  
  
I don't ever, EVER lose.  
  
And not to some jackass prick who rides his horses and spouts off his Spanish and thinks he's so powerful, when he really never even knew what he was bloody messing with!  
  
SCREW YOU, DE SILVA!  
  
I was on my feet, hurling the chairs around the room again, smashing everything that seemed breakable. The noise soothed this terrible ache, this unquenchable yearning for the one thing I knew was out of even my reach –  
  
NO!  
  
You'll have her, Paul! She'll be crawling back to you! She'll be on her hands and knees, pleading for you to take her back! She'll want you like she never wanted anything in her life. She'll crave you, need you, SCREAM for you!  
  
. . . Die for you . . .  
  
Die for –  
  
Oh for God's sake, wake up and smell the dog piss, Paul. That'll never happen . . .  
  
I sank onto her bed again, defeated. I hung my head limply. What was the point of existence? I couldn't even do a Heather. Not literally "do" a Heather, Jesus, even that seemed appealing now just to get back at Suze. No, I meant kill myself.  
  
No, Jesse already did that for you, remember? He shot you in the –  
  
But I was forced out of my depression by the sound of the door opening. I jerked my head up wildly.  
  
'Suze!' I yelled . . .  
  
Hang on, who the hell?  
  
It wasn't Suze at all. It was that little albino chick, Cindy or something. Nah, CeeCee. That's it. I glared at her. Stupid little bitch had gotten my hopes up . . . What was SHE doing here, tricking me like that?  
  
My question was answered when she walked to Suze's wardrobe and began stuffing jeans and tops into a bag.  
  
Why, that little . . .  
  
She'd sent her friend over, just so she didn't have to see me! That BITCH! Just so she didn't have to talk to me, let me explain how sorry I was!  
  
Well, if she thought she was going to get away with it that easily, she really shouldn't have sent anyone over. I glared at the albino, as she scanned the room with raised eyebrows. You know, she was kind of pretty in a very white kind of way.  
  
Snow White.  
  
I remembered then. She'd passed out or something when I was showering. I laughed in spite of myself. Suze had seen too. Bet you she wasn't half as disgusted as she pretended to be. Bet you she liked seeing me. That much of me.  
  
That was when I decided. No more moping. It was time to play hard ball. If Suze wanted a fight, she was going to get it. But in the end, I was going to win. I was going to win her, and Jesse could go suck –  
  
Oh, all right, I'll watch my language.  
  
Smirking, suddenly blazing with a new fire that spurred me on, I concentrated dully on a book on the window seat, making it float.  
  
Well, it sure got Snow White's attention. She looked alarmed, but then cynical. She marched over and then began inspecting the book from every perspective, trying to find a wire or something.  
  
No wires, babe. I'm a no string puppet.  
  
I controlled the book to hit her on the head, then, and I snorted when she let out a loud "Ow!" Total slapstick, I swear. I was laughing my head off by then. She narrowed her eyes at the book, which I had let fall to the floor. Man, she looked pissed. Laughing, I carried on with my briskly fashioned plan, and headed over to the bed, dragging Suze's white sheet off the bed. Snow White turned around hastily, and saw me floating towards her, looking like she was about to scream, when I knocked her to the floor, and covered her mouth to stop her from yelling. I knew for a fact that Mrs Ackerman was downstairs. That would be rather interesting if she popped up and saw CeeCee on the ground with an embodied blankie lying on top of her.  
  
Focusing hard, I activated my power to be seen and heard. Like I said, it's impossible for you to do if you weren't a shifter in life. Not a mediator, a shifter. Young Jack wouldn't have stood a chance.  
  
I dragged the sheet off my face, and gazed down at her. She blinked up at me, wide-eyed.  
  
'If you scream,' I warned her, 'I will kill you . . .'  
  
Her eyes went – if this was possible – even wider. I could see all of her misty purple irises. They had an enchanted look about them. Like, magic, or psychic or something. It was weird . . .  
  
'Okay,' I smirked, and removed my hand. I offered my hand, but she didn't take it. She didn't want to touch me. Strange . . . I'm usually very gropeworthy.  
  
She eyed me like I was some mutilated version of her reflection. 'W-What are you?' she demanded, losing the fearful façade.'  
  
I laughed. 'Oh, me? I'm a ghost, Snow White.'  
  
She went to argue, but froze. 'Huh?'  
  
My smirk broadened. 'Snow White,' I repeated.  
  
'I have a name!' she shrilled, glaring now. 'It's CeeCee!'  
  
I wandered lazily towards her. 'Nah, I like Snow White better.'  
  
I saw her gulp, and her neck became very thick. She was scared. But weren't they all? Back in my old shifting days, as soon as the ghosts got a look at me, they'd try to dematerialize again, but I'd trap them. They were all so scared of me. That was the way I liked it.  
  
Except with Suze. She was different.  
  
God, Suze is always different!  
  
Snow White was still staring at me. She had the silkiest, creamiest complexion. And she didn't wear make-up, which is a new thing, Paul-Slater wise. She was wearing a very conservative sleeved white polo neck, and long black pants. 'You're not a ghost,' she scoffed, not sounding so convinced. 'You're just some dumb jock trying to make me scared. Look what you're wearing. No one could take YOU seriously.'  
  
Outrage flickered across my face. 'What's wrong with what I'm wearing?' I snapped. I looked down at my street jeans, with all the chains, and at my top. It was very cool, I reckoned. Cool, slick, powerful. Cool.  
  
She raised an eyebrow. 'Puh-lease. I've seen gayer garb on the homosexuals of our school. Get a new look. You're not exactly a convincing ghost, ghost boy.'  
  
My face contorted. She was dissing me . . . No one dissed me!  
  
I leapt at her, and slammed her against the wall. Hey, I know I do it a lot. It's a power position, what can I say? The girls go gaga for it. Well, they would if they weren't so scared of me. My face moved to be five centimeters away from hers.  
  
'Wanna bet?' I snarled, looking down at her, holding her there with the sheet. I couldn't touch her, still. I couldn't even touch her clothes. It had something to do with her "aura." Her clothes become "her" and cannot be touched by ghosts either. It's really very annoying.  
  
She choked on a breath. 'Ow,' she whimpered. 'Lay off, this is so stupid, jock – AH!'  
  
That "ah" was provoked when I shook her roughly. Her head cracked forward and back, messing up her abnormally blonde hair. She really did have a very pretty face . . .  
  
'So, Snow White, are we going to cooperate? Or shall we resort to carnage and bloodbaths?' I asked lightly, with a hidden threat growling in my tone.  
  
Her jaw opened and closed several times. God, I couldn't get over the hair. It was white as white, gently tanned with yellow. Amazing, really. And very soft, too. God, if half the girls I did had hair as nice as this, I wouldn't have such a bad rep.  
  
Laughing at the thought, I focused back on my victim at hand.  
  
'So, Snow, this is how we're going to go about this. I'm going to ask you something, and you're going to answer. Otherwise, I think I'm going to keep all this shiny hair, you know?' I said. I looked at her locks intensely, pulling them with my mind.  
  
She gasped, shutting her eyes. 'What are you doing, you freak?!' she hissed through gritted teeth. I knew it hurt her.  
  
'Told ya I'm a ghost,' I hissed in her ear, and to prove this further, I reached right into her head with my hand. It passed right through her like nothing, like mist. Her eyes went kind of cross-eyed in horror as she stared at the huge arm going through her cranium.  
  
'Get out!' she squealed, 'Get out of my head! Ow!'  
  
Satisfied, I withdrew my hand. 'I'm glad we've come to an agreement. Now, Snow, what do you know about Jesse De Silva?' I asked, the malice pronounced in my tone.  
  
She was shuddering. I could feel her beneath the sheet.  
  
'What will you do once I tell you?' she inquired with mistrusting eyes.  
  
'SHUT UP AND ANSWER!' I roared in her fact, squeezing her shoulders through the sheet. She cried out, and in a jumble, answered me.  
  
'He goes to our school! Suze said he was a murderer, but she's going out with him!' she babbled, her voice high and scared. She was feeling the pain now. Let her feel it . . .  
  
'Going out with him?' I asked, 'As in, on a date?'  
  
'Yes,' she sniffed.  
  
'When?'  
  
'I have to go –'  
  
'WHEN, CEECEE?!' I bellowed, crushing her shoulders again.  
  
'Tomorrow,' she panted back. 'Tomorrow night at eight. That's all I know, I swear!'  
  
I glared into her eyes, trying to penetrate her mind, but I couldn't. My shifting days were over . . . Oh well, I had a strong feeling that she didn't know any more than that.  
  
I smiled down at her. 'I'm so glad we had this chat, Snow.' Then I added suggestively, 'Drop by . . . some other time?'  
  
Her eyes went wide in indignation. 'Who are you?' she stuttered.  
  
I smirked largely. 'Oh, I'm no one you know,' I answered, my hand straying to her arse.  
  
Damn. She jerked away from me, both scared and disgusted. 'Screw you,' she spat, and ran off with her little plastic bag. Hey? She was kind of hot, if you ignore the whole racist thing I have. And you can't teach a sleazy dog new tricks, or indeed get rid of the old ones.  
  
I laughed.  
  
'De Silva, you're coming down tomorrow, and Suze? You're coming with me . . .'  
  
All thanks to the fairytale princess . . .  
  
Snow White.  
  
Now, it was off to take her advice. Get a new look . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ****************  
  
Sorry, they seem to be getting shorter and shorter. Oh well, it's not that bad. Please review! Please, please, please? Love you all SO MUCH!!! Hot date's up in two . . . I think?  
  
Regards, Mystique Angelique. 


	16. Perfection

When I said "hot date up in two," I meant two chapters, not two weeks, sorry if I got your hopes up. Might be up this chapter, I dunno. I mean, sure, I'll try with the long weekend and all, but knowing me, something will go horribly wrong. Oh well, enjoy!  
  
**************************************************************************** *********  
  
Suze's POV.  
  
'Does it ever snow in Carmel?' I asked wistfully.  
  
CeeCee jerked up, looking around her, her eyes suddenly fearful. Whoa.  
  
'Cee? You sane?' I asked uncertainly.  
  
She slackened with relief, 'Oh, nothing. Sorry, I thought I heard . . . nothing. Forget it, Suze.'  
  
I stared at her. She had been acting weirdly all night. Like, paranoid.  
  
Funny, I couldn't imagine why.  
  
Oh well, it was Friday! I was in such a good mood that I couldn't let a little thing like suspicious CeeCee bother me. Aaah, minimum of three blissful hours with Jesse De Silva . . . I couldn't wait until tonight! It was lunch time, and we were in the Library. How bizarre of her, really.  
  
'Where do you think he'll take me?' I asked for the hundredth time.  
  
She groaned. 'Suze, I happy for you. Really I am. My heart sings for you. Just shut up already!' she actually looked quite disturbed by it though, so I stopped.  
  
I smiled. 'Sorry.' Then, ten seconds later, not being able to help myself, I piped up with, 'So what do you think he'll be wearing?'  
  
She glared at me.  
  
Hang on!  
  
WEARING!  
  
OH MY GOD! I HAD NOTHING TO WEAR!!!  
  
I swear, I almost fainted on site. I started to hyperventilate, and get really hot.  
  
CeeCee stared at me, horrified. 'What is up with you Simon?' she asked hurriedly.  
  
'D-D . . . D . . . Don't have . . . '  
  
'Don't have what?'  
  
'D . . . Don't have . . . a dress . . .' I stuttered finally.  
  
CeeCee stared at me, and then snorted. Hey, I was in a crisis here! She had no right to go around snorting!!  
  
I calmed down in my irritation. 'Hey, just because you don't have a date, stop thinking mine's a big joke,' I snapped at her impulsively.  
  
She blinked at me, and then looked away.  
  
Oh, now I felt awful. 'Oh, Cee, I'm sorry. That was a mean thing to say. I'm such a loser. Well, we all know about my foot in mouth problem. My therapist is working on it, I swear. Cee? I'm sorry.' I touched her shoulder, feeling way lower by the second. 'Sorry, Cee.'  
  
She looked at me, and although she was still hurt, she managed a smile. 'Oh well, we can't all be radiant beauties like you, Suze,' she shrugged. Her eyes were very shiny. 'At least I'm smart. But unfortunately, guys don't find that too attractive.'  
  
And lower, and lower . . .  
  
'Cee,' I said seriously, 'Stop all of this stuff. God, you sound like a suicidal. You're a doll, trust me. Why are you suddenly so self-critical, any way?'  
  
'I dunno . . . Just with Adam swooning over you, it's a bit hard not to be,' she said sadly. I rubbed her back soothingly.  
  
'Cee, please, I'm nothing special. You are.'  
  
'Sure your special. You've got heaps of guys after you!' she blurted out, and then looked panicky. I stared at her. Was it just me, or was something weird going on?  
  
'What do you kn –'  
  
'Nothing?' she yelped. 'Not a thing, not an iota. Nope, not me knowing something, no.'  
  
'You not knowing something?' I smirked, 'It hasn't been written.'  
  
Her face relaxed.  
  
'Well,' I continued, my voice barely a whisper, 'Wanna skip a couple of classes?'  
  
She was horrified. 'Suze! How could you suggest that? It's ridiculous! I can't wag! That'll –'  
  
'Kill your teacher's pet rep? Fair enough, I know you had your heart set on that university in London, whatever it's called. This'll so ruin your chances, I understand totally,' I said sarcastically, leaning back in my chair with my arms crossed.  
  
She sighed.  
  
'For God's sake, Suze . . .' she bit her lip. 'Okay. You owe me, Simon!'  
  
~*~  
  
I stood outside my house. I didn't want to go in there. Not after the other day. I didn't want to see Paul ever again. Oh, and the fact that mum would wonder why the hell I wasn't at school. But yeah, mainly Paul, you know?  
  
But I couldn't use CeeCee's money to buy a dress. That was evil. I had to get my own. I had a nice $200 sitting pretty in my money box, if only I could get to it . . .  
  
I told CeeCee to wait out the front, while I slipped inside. Whistling. Crap, mum was in the kitchen. Strange, usually Andy cooked. Maybe she was just washing up . . . Oh well. I was just sneaking past, when –  
  
'WOOF!'  
  
Shit! Max started barking like crazy from the sofa! I totally froze on the spot.  
  
'Max? Stop barking. What's wrong?' mum called from the kitchen, coming to see what was going on.  
  
Oh no. No, no, no, no . . . don't see me. Don't see me . . .  
  
Footsteps so close? My heart froze. This was it. I was officially dead.  
  
'Max?'  
  
NO! NOT FAIR! I panicked as I saw mum's shadow over the doorway, and . . .  
  
I dematerialized.  
  
~*~  
  
Isn't that cool?!  
  
Second time I did it! I had dematerialized to my room, and thank the Lord almighty, Paul had evacuated. Permanently, I couldn't tell. Well, here's for hoping. I grabbed my money, and ran, still bubbling about how easily I had dematerialized. THIS RULED! All I had done was though about not being there, and BAM! I wasn't! Well, that and the fact that I'd been about to piss my pants, but we'll strike that from the record, huh?  
  
'Cee, got my money. Let's go,' I said.  
  
After a long, fairly silent walk, we were at the Carmel Mall. I gulped nervously at the large building. I think I'm kind of mallophobic or something. It sucks, it really does. I kind of get shopping overload, and I have to sit down because I get dizzy and stuff, which makes shopping really hard. But I was on a mission! I couldn't give into my childish fears! No!  
  
WILL FIGHT AGAINST MALLOPHOBIA!  
  
o.O  
  
. . . Is that a word even?  
  
Breathing a little quicker, I entered the shopping mall. CeeCee looked at me anxiously. I'd told her about my unease previously. Well, at least she'd remembered. That was nice.  
  
'You okay?' she asked. 'Was this really worth skipping class for?'  
  
I gave her a look. 'What kind of a question is that?' I wanted to know.  
  
She sighed. 'A stupid one, seeing that I'm talking to you, Simon.'  
  
'Damn straight!' I smirked, my tummy getting rather queasy. I stopped in front of a really nice looking dress shop, called "Elegance." It looked really spiffy, with mauve and silver walls, and silver tiles and stuff, and a heck of a lot of mirrors. And the dresses . . . Voila! There were SO many! Just, the problem was, well, some of them were a little skanky.  
  
I had a sneak peak around, trying to ignore the building pressure in my head and the churning of my stomach. There were black off the shoulders, red slip dresses, light blue cowl necks, the lot. But, none of them were the right one. I tried on a few, and CeeCee seemed to like them all, but, nothing was ever quite right . . .  
  
I examined myself in a mirror, in a pretty gold dress with no straps. It was all right, but not "it." I sighed.  
  
'This is hopeless,' I groaned, 'I need an aspirin, Cee.'  
  
'Come on,' she encouraged me. 'We'll find something.' She lead a dizzy me to another shop called "The Upper Class." It was a lot different to "Elegance." Everything was black and white, including the dresses. No reds, no blues, not even grey. Just black and white. I felt like I was stuck in some colourless dimension. I felt so nauseous, like I was going to faint or something.  
  
. . . .  
  
Then  
  
I  
  
Saw  
  
It.  
  
I stopped completely. In front of me on a tall rack, there was the most divine dress I'd ever laid eyes on. It was the purest white I'd ever seen. It was silk, with a lacy bodice that dipped into a V, which was embellished with a stylish sprinkle of diamontes. The straps were thin and sophisticated. The skirt wasn't leg tight, it flared a little and finished just below the knees, and was covered with diamontes also, which gradually got fewer as they neared the waist. It shimmered in the bright light. It looked like it was heaven's uniform. It wasn't hip, and it wasn't sexy. It was pretty. Really, REALLY pretty, but not wedding dress pretty yet. It was perfect. So perfect . . .  
  
'Now, THAT'S a great dress,' CeeCee smiled. I sighed at it. It was really so stunning. I'm way serious. I checked the price tag, and my spirits kind of sank. It was by Petra Anderson. I didn't know who she was – no designer I knew – but I didn't care. But that wasn't the downer –  
  
'Two hundred and fifty,' I muttered.  
  
'With the discount?' she asked, disappointed. 'What a bummer-'  
  
'Discount?' I demanded, 'What is this discount you speak of-'  
  
'The fifty percent discount on last season's dresses,' she explained, pointing to the large sign on the wall above the counter. 'Anything with that red sticker on it is last season. That has a red sticker on it, right? Yeah. So, did you discount it?'  
  
Oh my God! THIS ROCKED SO MUCH!!!  
  
I let out a rather embarrassing squeal, and flipped my hands about excitedly. 'I have enough!' I screamed, 'I'm trying it on!'  
  
'You do that,' she said quickly, edging away – people were staring.  
  
I bustled into one of the change-rooms, and ripped of my slacks and my tank top, substituting it with the magnificent white evening dress. I pulled it into place, and stared into the mirror.  
  
I stared at myself, fingering the dress gently. It fell back into place into the pearly folds of the skirt.  
  
And suddenly . . . I felt beautiful.  
  
I just stared at my face. At my eyes. They were bright green. My hair looked a little daggy, just in a messy bun at the back of my head, but the dress made me feel, not like a mediator . . .  
  
. . . But like a girl.  
  
A girl going on a date.  
  
Beautiful.  
  
It had never occurred to me that I could look beautiful. Good looking, maybe. Stylish, all the time. With the fashion? Totally. But beautiful was something for brides and for fairy tale princesses. I felt like one. Pretty . . .  
  
I sighed happily, and went out to show CeeCee.  
  
'Wow,' she breathed, her eyes misty and a little envious. She was frozen, staring at me. 'Suze, you look like you could go to the prom. That is so beautiful . . .'  
  
I beamed. 'Getting it,' I decided, feeling so exultant that my stomach shut up completely. I was cured!  
  
~*~  
  
An hour later, I was at CeeCee's house. It was now six. I'd just had a shower, and CeeCee was blow drying my erratic hair in front of her mirror in her rather yellow and green bedroom. It looked nice straight. My hair, I mean, not her bedroom. It's usually all curly, and looks really weird and a little messy, but straight, it's sleek and chic. I have a slightly layered hair-cut, so my dark brown hair skims my shoulders.  
  
'Suze, I got a surprise for you,' CeeCee grinned.  
  
I turned to face her. 'What?'  
  
'You know when I said I was ducking into the loo?' she smirked, pulling out a little plastic bag. 'I lied . . .'  
  
And with that, she pulled out the most incredible necklace ever! It was silver, with several chains dangling from the front, with a few more chains running horizontally, giving it like, a spider web look or something. Every time the silver chains crossed over, it would be studded with a crystal. She then withdrew bold, matching earrings, and lastly, a diamonte hair clip. She pulled the necklace on my neck, and it just seemed to mould onto it. My breathed softly.  
  
'CeeCee,' I said, so absurdly thrilled, but still astonished, 'You . . . you didn't have to do that. But these, there are so pretty.'  
  
'Twenty dollars out of a bargain bin,' she shrugged. 'I took some cash along as well. That's real Swarovski crystal. Feel privileged, Suze.'  
  
I touched the necklace lightly. I was so awed. Then, I just turned around and hugged her. No words.  
  
'Thank you,' was all I said. She was my friend. She was a real, true friend, like Gina. I hugged her tighter.  
  
'No biggie,' she beamed. She was clearly delighted. She very carefully put on my earrings for me, did my hair so it was half-up, half-down with little bangs coming down at the side, and clipping it with the hair clasp. It looked stunning on my dark hair, if I do say so myself. CeeCee then applied all my make-up for me. For someone who never wore anything, she sure knew what she was doing. By the end, my eyes seemed very big and green, and almost twinkling. My lips were a natural shade of pink, and I had bold eyeliner on. It was very dramatic, but looked fabulous. I don't usually look fabulous, so this was a very nice change.  
  
'All the eye make-up is waterproof,' she assured me, 'If worst comes to worst, you know . . . '  
  
'I doubt it,' I said confidently. Jesse wasn't like that. Well, he didn't seem like that.  
  
*Things aren't always what they seem, Suze.*  
  
You bet they aren't.  
  
After all of that, it was quarter to eight. Rushing, I slipped into the Most Beautiful Dress In The World, and into some of CeeCee's high heels that matched my dress the best. She said she wore them for weddings. They were strappy silver ones. She then lent me her mother's evening handbag. I felt a little weird, using someone else's stuff, but I didn't swell on it. I had a last look in the mirror, saw that I looked quite radiant, really, in an angelic kind of way. Anyone loaning me a halo? And wings, if it's not too much trouble?  
  
Aww, shucks.  
  
That was when the doorbell rang.  
  
My heart thudded in my chest. I inhaled and exhaled very carefully, trying not to skip any breaths. CeeCee walked to the door and opened it.  
  
'Hello, CeeCee, is Susannah here?'  
  
His voice sounded to sexy and rusty when I wasn't looking at his face. CeeCee smiled, and said, 'I'll just go get her. Wait there a second . . .'  
  
She ran over to me, trying to maintain her excitement. 'Okay?' she asked, 'Ready?'  
  
I released a shuddering breath. 'Ready.'  
  
'Well, go then!' she hissed, slapping my butt for me to get a move on. Startled, I moved towards the door . . .  
  
And wow . . .  
  
My mouth fell open when I saw the ultimate Apollo standing there before me. Jesse De Silva. Man, did he look hot in Armani! He wore long black pants, a navy sleeved shirt that was open just enough to be heavenly, and a dark denim jacket that wasn't quite formal, but not quite casual either. He had a little cold chain with a crucifix on it. He looked perfect. And his teeth were incredible pearly this evening. Under the porch light, his hair was highlighted by brilliant gold reflections, and his eyes . . . He wasn't trying to hypnotize me and already, I was falling into a spell. His eyes, so black, mysterious, secretive, warm, so mesmerizingly dark . . .  
  
Perfection.  
  
I melted at the doorway like butter in the oven. I felt like I was liquid in his presence. Suze? Remember breathing? Just do that . . .  
  
It took me a few seconds to realize that he was pretty impressed with me too, if by the way he was gazing at me longingly was any indication. I managed a smile.  
  
'Hey, Jesse,' I greeted  
  
'Querida,' he uttered, 'You look . . . magnífico tonight. Hermosa . . . '  
  
I blushed, not knowing what the hell he meant. Well, "magnífico" was kind of obvious. But yeah. He was shaking his head at me softly. I didn't know why. But he had a dreamy expression on his face, so it had to be good, right? Right?!  
  
I looked down subconsciously at my wrists. They were scarring. They looked horrible. Well, you could only notice them if you looked right at them, but still, I looked deformed. They totally screwed up the white dress . . . Totally.  
  
He glanced down at them also, and saw why I was looking so put out. He took a step closer to me, and his finger touched my cheek. The reaction his skin had on mine tingled pleasantly.  
  
'Please come,' he said, offering his hand. I accepted it, and he lead me to his car, that Cadilac or whatever. Yeah that's right, it was a Cadilac. See? I'm so good.  
  
Yeah. Riiiiight . . .  
  
After a ten minute drive, swapping compliments, we turned into this little place outside of Carmel. It was a beachfront restaurant. We exited the car. I felt rather breathless. I looked out at the ocean, washing in and out, in and out, rhythmic and repetitive. The sky was dark, with a gorgeous half moon. It was like a half a freshly manufactured quarter, all shiny and new. It reflected on the ocean brightly, a flickering silver light against a see of leather-like blackness.  
  
Jesse touched my hand, and I was pulled out of my musing.  
  
'Come on, querida,' he smiled mysteriously, his eyes twinkling under the moonlight. 'This is a restaurant that my family came to all the time before we moved to Seattle. It's called Sandy Dreams Restaurant. It's not much,' he added, embarrassed, 'But it has the best food I've tasted . . . '  
  
I nodded, and he walked me in.  
  
Oh my God . . .  
  
NOT MUCH MY ASS!  
  
Sure, it wasn't the biggest place, but it was all done up in candlelight, and floodlights, and had a hearty smell in the air that made my tastebuds dance and tempted me like no devil could. The smell was so good . . . In the corner, a band was playing, with a very beautiful woman singing lead. She rocked in front of the microphone stand gracefully, dressed in a bold red dress. She had an awesome voice. I really wish I could sing, you know? That would be so cool . . . Oh well, I can't.  
  
Jesse went up to the counter. He swayed coolly as he walked. He really was a god on earth . . . So physically perfect in every possible way. Except for that scar on his eyebrow. Oh well, it only added to his character.  
  
'"De Silva?" Secluded area?' he asked the woman there. She had droopy strawberry blonde hair.  
  
'Yes sir,' she smiled flirtatiously at him, but Jesse didn't seem to notice. She eyed me with a cold smile that didn't reach her eyes, as if saying, "what are you doing with a guy like him?" Again, I looked insecurely at my wrists, running my fingers over the bumps of my skin that the rope had caused.  
  
Remembering the pain . . .  
  
'Susannah?' Jesse said, 'Follow me.'  
  
That lady lead us to a separate area divided by a glass wall, right in front of the beach. It was overwhelming, all of this. First date? Bet no one was ever going to beat this . . . The table was set for two, and there were three candles on the table. The napkins were all beige, and were folded into this kind of crown shape. The plates were a creamy colour, and the cutlery was sparkling. Three glass walls surrounded us, basically. I could still hear the music playing, and that woman singing romantic, slow songs.  
  
Jesse sat me down in one of the two seats, and then sat himself in the other one charmingly. He had very good posture, and elite manners. He was a real gentleman, as my mum would say. We examined the menus without much talking, and after a waitress sidled up and took our orders, - throwing Jesse another teasing look – we started to have a conversation.  
  
'So,' I began, 'How was your week?'  
  
'Good,' he replied.  
  
I stared.  
  
Finally, I said, 'Don't you just hate the start of a conversation? Because someone always has to say the right thing to get the other person to talk about something they really care about, and I always such at starting conversations, so you'd better be the one to say something clever that will be me talking –'  
  
'Susannah,' he interrupted. I stopped, and looked directly at him.  
  
'Yes?'  
  
'Please . . . slow down?'  
  
I went scarlet, and once again, looked at my wrists.  
  
'Paul?' he asked grimly, his mouth set.  
  
I looked back up at him. 'No . . . Heather. I lied, he did hit me once. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Just after I sent Heather to the Shadowland, when you kissed me at school. He must have been angry.' I can really lay it on thick when I want to, huh? Why did I keep lying to him?  
  
He nodded. 'Oh. Okay then. Please tell me you aren't like Paul was, and you use ghosts –'  
  
'God no,' I laughed. 'No, I'm whipped, I'll admit it. I always help them. It's my job, after all.'  
  
'A job? No, it is a birthright, Susannah. Something we must do.'  
  
'Also known as a job,' I said. 'Go join the Father Dominic and Co. Mediation-is-a-gift worshipping club already.'  
  
He smiled knowingly. 'If you insist.'  
  
'I do.'  
  
'I know.'  
  
I stopped, and asked him something that had been bothering me for a while now. 'Jesse, why isn't Kelly Prescott here?'  
  
He frowned. 'I do not understand. You wish for Kelly Prescott to join us?' He looked almost sick. 'Why?'  
  
'No, not that,' I shook my head. 'I mean, why do you like me? I'm just Suze. Nothing special. Except my toes are nice. It's really good to have nice toes, you know? If I ever wanted to be a foot model, I mean. That way, then, I would probably have to stop beating the crap out of ghosts, because I could break a toe or something. Wouldn't it be weird to have the most valuable feet in the-'  
  
He was laughing. I stopped again. 'What?'  
  
'Too fast,' he chuckled, his hand on his chin. I blew my hair out of my eyes.  
  
'You think I'm an airhead, don't you,' I said sadly.  
  
He looked shocked. 'Of course not, querida. I think you are . . . amazing.'  
  
'Yeah,' I said. 'Sure.'  
  
He now looked disturbed. 'Susannah, I'm here because I want to be. You're here because I wanted you to be. I want YOU here with me. Not Kelly Prescott, not that coy waitress at the front counter who was trying to flirt with me.'  
  
So he did notice it. Just modest. Oh, isn't he so sweet?  
  
I looked at his hair again. It was so crisp and clean. Perfect.  
  
The food came soon enough. Entrées first. I'd ordered this creamy mushroom soup which was really nice, and Jesse had this tiny seafood platter. It was really interesting to look at. We ate, and as the night deepened, we discussed more important things, like ourselves, and crucially, the ghosts we'd dealt with in the past, our methods and our hardest situations. It was really intriguing, hearing what Jesse had to say. Most of the stories involved Paul. He talked about him like they'd never been friends, just two boys who shared an ability that were thrown together.  
  
I began to see how intensely Jesse hated Paul. I saw his eyes narrow that little bit whenever Paul's name was mentioned. It was loathing, even. After the main – I had Kennedy Classic, a steak and creamy garlic prawns, and Jesse had this fancy lamb dish – we just kept talking.  
  
We had quite a lot in common. Well, not really. I mean, I doubted Jesse got sick whenever he entered a shopping mall. But we agreed on a lot of things, I mean. Each word he spoke, I felt myself willingly falling more and more in love with him. With his smile, with that deep little chuckle of his, with his thick black hair, with his pouty Latino lips . . . with those onyx eyes that were stealing my heart away from me. And I was powerless against his theft. I wanted to be powerless. It felt too damn good to try and stop what was happening to me. My heart was beating in my chest quite fast still, and hot blood was pumping away through me, making me feel so alive. I sank further into this spell he had on me, involving no magic or shifter gimmicks. Everything was very romantic. I felt so relaxed. It was like talking to Gina – I could tell him anything. Accept anything about Paul. He couldn't know a thing. At last, after a delicious dessert had been consumed, we just sat there, not saying a word. I stared out at the hypnotic ocean, waves crashing over each other gently. I could hear it from here . . .  
  
Everything was so perfect.  
  
But then, he popped up with the question, 'Would you like to dance querida?'  
  
Huh? DANCE?! Not perfect, I CAN'T DANCE!  
  
**************************************************************************** **********  
  
Now review!  
  
Oh, and Tasha? Those two translations were supposed to be "son of a bitch," and "God damn it." I'm on an auto-translater, I just write what it says!  
  
Okay, so how was that chapter? What do you think? And guys, I'm still looking for ideas for the next story, ninth key. WARNING FOR "NINTH KEY": Someone very close to Suze is going to be involved in a tragic incident. Who do you think it's going to be?  
  
REVIEW!! YOU ALL RULE!  
  
Regards, Mystique Angelique.  
  
YOU ROCK THE WORLD!! 


	17. Shattered

Okay, this is pretty quick, but it is a long weekend and I'm trying to make the most of it (and make up for last weekend . . . ) I don't know anything about dancing, by the way. I'll try and wing it, let's see . . . lyrics aren't mine. These are Delta's.  
  
**************************************************************************** **********  
  
Suze's POV  
  
But then, he popped up with the question, 'Would you like to dance querida?'  
  
I stared at him as if he was crazy. 'I – I can't dance, Jesse . . . '  
  
He smiled kindly. 'Then I shall teach you. Stand.'  
  
'No, Jesse. I will embarrass women kind. Seriously.'  
  
He looked down at me, holding out his hand. 'You will not embarrass anyone.' And then he added in the silkiest voice I've ever heard, 'Now please stand, Susannah . . . '  
  
I'm sorry, but it was too irresistible. My hand slipped into his gently, and with a light head, I stood up. He lead me out of the private area onto the dance floor, and rested his hand against my waist. It was warm through the fabric. I shivered slightly, because of the affect his gentle, caressing touch had on me. I placed my hand on his shoulder, and he held my other tenderly. He showed me the patterns that my feet had to move in. I kept trying to steer, but he told me not to, that it was his job. Shit, Jesse was a great dancer. Why did he have to be this perfect? With all the noble saving-his-sister thing, and his impeccable manners. I felt like wasn't good enough for him, like I was impure. Inferior.  
  
He stopped me, grinning.  
  
'Susannah, you are thinking too much,' he told me. 'Stop thinking. Dancing is an escape. Just feel the music.' He flexed his hands against mine, staring at our fingertips. My hands were small and feminine against his slightly coarse ones. His eyes were so deep and cavernous. I felt lost in them, oh, hopelessly, blissfully lost. His breath fanned my neck. My feet moved delicately now, with him leading me expertly. I could feel the music running through me, quickening my breath, shielding me from everything in the outside world. Shielding me from Paul. I was safe here . . .  
  
'You're getting better,' he said. 'See? That wasn't so embarrassing, was it?'  
  
'Not that bad. Well, you've seen my pathetic dancing, let's go and sit back –'  
  
'I don't think so,' his eyes flashed playfully. 'I have you here now, there's no way I'm letting you go.'  
  
My heart skipped a beat. All he meant was dancing, Suze. I lowered my eyes  
  
'Wait here.'  
  
I stood there, embarrassed, as he went and had a word to the singer. She smiled, and nodded. Then she had a word to someone at the front desk, and they dimmed the lights so it was a pale blue! Jeez, Jesse sure knew a lot of high people . . .  
  
I stared in wonder as he came strolling back, broad shouldered, his eyes twinkling magically. He was so tall. All of a sudden, I felt very susceptible. The diamontes on my dress were reflecting blue in the glow, as was the whole silken dress. And then, I heard a soft tinkling from the musicians, and a beautiful song filled the air, as the woman began to sing with rich, mellifluous tones that graced the air and inspired an atmosphere of passion. I didn't recognize the song yet.  
  
"Woo oooh . . . Yeah aaah . . . "  
  
'Stand closer to me, querida,' he instructed softly.  
  
"My head's full of thought  
  
Thoughts of you.  
  
And I'm distracted so easy,  
  
Thinking what to do.  
  
So unsure, so unfamiliar  
  
Am I wrong to think that something could happen?"  
  
I shuffled about a centimeter forward, and Jesse smiled. 'No . . . ' And with that, he pulled me right up against him. I fell into him, kind of. He was so warm, and smelt so nice. I was being enchanted again, falling to this hole that I couldn't – and didn't want to – get out of. I rested my head hesitantly on his chest. His hand slid down my back . . .  
  
"Will you fall for me?  
  
I need to know, the way I'd like you to.  
  
Baby, will you fall for me?  
  
The way I've fallen for you. "  
  
We rotated slowly, the dark blue glow bathing us in a pool of mystery. I ran my hand along his arm. I could hear his heart beating in his chest. It was quick. Like mine. This intimacy, it felt so, so good . . . Aaah, a Delta Goodrem song. She was that Australian singer with cancer or something, in News Week.  
  
My breath was positively ragged. We were swaying to this beautiful music. It felt wonderfully surreal . . .  
  
Like a dream.  
  
"I'm not like myself,  
  
And I'm playing the role of someone else.  
  
And my heart's beating so fast.  
  
I can't stop it.  
  
And I'm so unsure.  
  
So unfamiliar.  
  
Am I wrong to think that something could happen."  
  
Like . . . love . . .  
  
"Will you fall for me?  
  
The way I'd like you to.  
  
Will you fall for me?  
  
The way I've fallen for you.  
  
The way I've fallen for you.  
  
The way I've fallen for you."  
  
Jesse gripped my back a little tighter. 'Susannah . . .' he whispered into my hair. I opened my mouth and tilted my head back in a silent gasp, and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I was gazing directly into his. And I couldn't look away . . .  
  
"Fallen for, fallen for you."  
  
Dark eyes. They were so dark. Casting this spell on me, making me feel like I was in heaven. Consuming me in this slow-burning passion. I felt fragile . . . like something very precious to him that he didn't want to break. I placed my arms around his neck, ensnared in those eyes like they were rings of fire. I felt as though I was being hypnotized again.  
  
Only this time, I was blinking.  
  
"So unsure, so unfamiliar,  
  
Am I wrong to think,  
  
That something could happen?  
  
Was I wrong to think . . ."  
  
The piano tinkled like chime bars, further burying me. This feeling inside, was it genuine? It felt like it. It felt so good, something I never, ever wanted to lose. Cherished, and dear . . .  
  
And then, he said sweetly to me, 'Susannah . . . Te amo . . .'  
  
. . . And I was caught.  
  
Caught like a fly drawn to a spider's web.  
  
Gently, gently.  
  
He ran his fingers up my spine, electrifying every nerve in my body. It was all I could do to keep myself from gasping loudly. He spun my out, and then drew me right back into him, now closer than ever . . . Tantalizingly close . . .  
  
"Will you fall for me  
  
The way I'd like you to?  
  
Will you fall for me?  
  
The way I've fallen for you . . ."  
  
Our eyes were locked with a key. We couldn't break away. We didn't want to. Something passed through me, and I felt myself go very weak. Me weak? Yeah, not often. My head thought of nothing. This attraction was so intense, it almost hurt. My heart was acting way ridiculously now. Jesse's eyes were scintillating, glittering in the dim blue light. Everything else was miles away . . .  
  
"The way I've fallen for you . . ."  
  
There was no hope for me. No escape. I was in love. My lips went very close to his, and his head dipped down very slowly. It was like we were magnetically being pulled towards one another. My lips tingled like I'd just ate sherbet, and my eyes fluttered . . .  
  
"The way I've fallen for you . . . "  
  
His breath was warm against my mouth. His heart was beating fast. I could feel it. My heart soared. We were so close . . .  
  
"Fallen for . . . fallen for you . . ."  
  
CRASH!  
  
Screaming ensued like a bomb explosion. Jesse and I broke apart rapidly, to see the shards of the beachfront window still falling to the floor.  
  
Shattered.  
  
Air was jammed in my throat, and I couldn't push the oxygen to my brain. Please, don't let it be . . .  
  
People were running out of the restaurant like ants during rain, trying to flee. They evacuated the restaurant, still screaming. I clutched my head suddenly, as a searing pain shot through my skull! It ached from the noise.  
  
Then, everything near the window began to blow wildly, like a helicopter was coming down. Smoke flared up. Jesse pulled me back.  
  
Please, not . . . not . . .  
  
That was when a figure began descending from outside, and slowly glided through the destroyed window. Everything was a desperate mess. Glass everywhere . . .  
  
Not . . . not . . . please.  
  
But it was. I saw, as the smoke settled. Saw his face. It was etched with murder.  
  
And I was terrified again.  
  
My world had shattered . . .  
  
Jesse stepped in front of me rapidly, holding me from behind.  
  
'Paul,' he growled. I could feel him shaking. Whoa, he really did hate the guy. And so . . . so did I.  
  
'You are not welcome here,' Jesse said in a deep, hostile voice, clutching my arms. Now, I'm not exactly the type to hide behind someone and let them defend me. But all I could see again, were those icy blue eyes. Flashing before my vision, blocking out everything else. They terrified me, haunted me. Wouldn't leave.  
  
The smoke was still drifting, so everything was misty. I saw that Paul, well, he was drunk with rage. You could tell. For a start, everything around the room was shaking like mad, and so was he. His teeth were bared, and you could see the veins on his temples popping out a tiny bit like blue piping covered by skin. His spectral glow was no longer white. It was black . . .  
  
I felt like I was choking. I –  
  
Hold the phone . . .  
  
'Paul?' I managed to cough out, completely shocked, 'What the . . . what the HELL are you wearing?'  
  
I mean in. Black leather pants hugged at his legs and fell over what appeared to by knee-high leather boots. He wore a tight-fitting top with a high cut neck, and a large leather overcoat that dropped to just below his knees. It gleamed the way that leather does. Now, my God, he looked good in leather, but . . .  
  
Was he serious?  
  
In spite of the fear that was eating me, I cracked up.  
  
Well, sorry. But it was funny.  
  
'Shit, Paul, who'd you have to kill to get that?' I wanted to know. 'Keanu Reeves, by any chance?'  
  
His murderous face became even more intense. I gulped. Maybe that hadn't been the best idea to criticize his punk wear. His eyes flashed black, and then tables in front of him were thrown deafeningly against the walls. I jumped in fright, and Jesse stepped back instinctively, still guarding me. My body was aching with dread. The candles that had been on the tables had fallen to the floor, and were beginning to flare up quickly. Twisting, dancing, licking flames. I could feel the heat on my face from where I was even, yet I felt awfully cold. My lips were ice.  
  
Blue eyes . . .  
  
Remember . . . the blue eyes . . . the rage . . .  
  
He wasn't there yet, with the rage. But you could totally tell that one thing would set him off.  
  
One little thing.  
  
I was still kind of staring at the whole leather thing. I mean, like I said, he looked good. Real good. Why? That's not fair. I mean, yeah, Jesse looked better, but Paul looked BAD.  
  
And not in the unattractive way, either.  
  
Paul's blackened eyes narrowed. I could see his lip quivering slightly. Trying to control his anger.  
  
His fury.  
  
'Well, De Silva,' he spat out, taking slow, menacing steps towards us. Jesse backed us away cautiously, eyeing him with acute mistrust. 'Long time, no see . . .'  
  
'What do you want, Paul?' Jesse asked coldly. Jeez, the hatred between the two was almost painful for me. My eyes darted between them, and I could feel a cold sweat emerging across my forehead and my upper lip, result of the ever-growing fire.  
  
'Just a chat,' he said cheerfully, but with hidden odium that all of use could sense clearly. I could feel it scarring me. 'Remember the last time we saw each other? You were feeding me bullets, De Silva,' he added softly.  
  
I felt Jesse go very rigid.  
  
Paul smirked. 'Yeah, that's right, Jesse. You're a murderer too. How does it feel, pulling that trigger? Doesn't it feel great? Taking a life for your own? Don't you feel powerful?'  
  
My heart was in my throat, and I felt very sick all of a sudden. How was Jesse going to answer that?!  
  
Jesse glared, his eyes flickering hatefully. 'Killing was the hardest thing I've ever done. I didn't take a life for my own, Slater, I took it for my sister, who you were about to – how did you say it? – "Feed bullets to". You are tierra, Paul.'  
  
'You've called me dirt before, Jesse. What makes you think I'm going to be miffed by it now?' Paul asked, taking another step closer, his eyes flickering to me for a second.  
  
And I saw.  
  
He was too far gone. There was nothing human left there. He was consumed by something truly evil . . .  
  
I shivered. That look was not one I wasn't for a Christmas present . . . It burnt me, as the fire around us was threatening to do. I felt very weak, still. As if, to defend myself, I would need Jesse.  
  
Not such a hot feeling . . .  
  
'Leave us, Slater. We are two powerful shifters,' Jesse said, shaking now, 'and we can defeat you.'  
  
Paul crossed his arms and gave me a humourous nod. 'Her? Powerful?' and with that, be blasted a table at Jesse, knocking him away, and then he seized me. I yelped and tried to get away, but Paul was far too strong.  
  
Oh so typical . . .  
  
'Querida!' Jesse swore in Spanish viciously at Paul, who only laughed hollowly. 'Sticks and stones, De Silva. Hell, not even sticks and stones anymore.'  
  
Jesse went to dive at him, but swiftly Paul positioned me so that one muscular arm was around my waist and arms, and the other was around my neck, tilting it up painfully. I gasped, and struggled, but to no avail. 'Don't move Jesse, or I'll kill her.'  
  
'No you wouldn't,' Jesse said, sounding genuinely shocked, but still wrathfully furious.  
  
'You know what I'm capable of, Jesse,' Paul hissed at him. 'Want to take a chance? By all means.'  
  
I stared at Jesse in panic. I couldn't swallow at all from the way that my neck was angled, and it was hurting . . .One little twist could snap my neck. We all knew it.  
  
Then to me, he smiled, and whispered beguilingly in my ear in slick, dark tones, 'God, you look so sexy tonight, Susie. I'm going to have you . . .'  
  
My face went red. 'Shut your pie hole,' I said through gritted teeth. Bad move.  
  
He gave me a painful jerk, which cut of my breathing for a few seconds entirely. I cried out, and Jesse looked unnerved. He made another move towards us, but Paul just smirked. 'You like her to suffer, don't you Jesse?'  
  
Jesse glared, but slumped. He could do nothing without getting me decapitated.  
  
'Aaah, right where I want you, De Silva. You always did care too much . . .' He chuckled evilly, and kissed me on the side of my head. 'Like I was saying, Suze here is about as powerful as wet paper. I mean, come on, a powerful shifter wouldn't let me do THIS.'  
  
On this, he ripped open my dress at the stomach, and exposed the wound where that stake of wood had stabbed me.  
  
The asshole! I just BOUGHT this dress! HALF PRICE, TOO!!!  
  
Jesse gasped in slow realization. 'No . . .'  
  
'Yes,' Paul snarled. 'Haven't you figured it out yet, De Silva? That place where you killed me? That would be Suze's house. That's where I've been bunking for the last seven months, now. And Suze, well, she's been great company, haven't you, love?' he purred suggestively.  
  
I panicked then, and cast my terrified gaze over to Jesse –  
  
- Who looked like he'd stabbed in the stomach.  
  
Or more appropriately, the back. By me.  
  
'Jesse,' I wheezed, 'He's lying. I didn't –'  
  
'Kiss me?' Paul interrupted, clearly enjoying every minute. 'Are you willing to stand up in court and say that?'  
  
'You kissed me!' I protested.  
  
'And you kissed me back,' he retorted.  
  
I blanched. Jesse looked even sicker, and angrier now.  
  
But this anger was partially reserved for me.  
  
'You . . . you let him kiss you?' he asked, disgusted. 'He is dead. He is sinful. Please, Susannah, tell me you are lying. Tell me that he hasn't been living with you.'  
  
'Well, it's not like I could do anything about it! And technically, it's not living. It's more like . . . after-living!' I rasped pathetically, my breath getting rare.  
  
Jesse just stared at me, shaking his head. No words for me.  
  
'Jesse, please!' I cried, tears threatening to swamp us all. 'I didn't do anything, I swear.'  
  
'Just like you swore that Paul had only seen you twice,' he said back.  
  
Paul laughed. 'You thought you'd get away with that?'  
  
'SHUT UP!' we snapped at him.  
  
'How about no?' he snarled. 'I'm so glad you've got all of this out in the open, lovers, but please. I've got a schedule, you know.' Again, he jerked my neck, and I screamed again to the pain.  
  
Jesse's anger died, and he looked scared for me again. Oh God . . . what a shitty situation!  
  
'You're a pig, Paul,' I said aggressively. I needed to swallow, desperately.  
  
He was pleased. 'Oh, a pig. Witty, Suze.' Then to Jesse, he said, 'But hey, at least she's hot.'  
  
Flames were crackling . . .  
  
'You and I have the same tastes, De Silva . . .'  
  
Jesse took a slow step forward. I could see in his eyes that he was furious. Paul had tried to murder his sister. Of course he was furious. He'd done it in cold blood, too. That wasn't a thing you shrug off too easily. 'Espero que eso no sea tan,' he snarled. 'I saw that girl in the Shadow World, who claimed to have spent the night with you, Slater. My tastes are far higher than her. I settle for nothing less than Susannah. You, you get it on with anything that will stand still long enough.'  
  
Oooh, Paul was SO toast . . .  
  
Fire was spreading . . .  
  
Smoke filling my lungs, more and more . . .  
  
Hard. To breathe.  
  
I felt Paul well indignantly. But you know what? I was getting WAY pissed with this whole "Damsel in Distress" thing. So, when I'm pissed off, I kind of get the strength to do things I usually couldn't do. Like, get out of ghostly dickheads' iron grips? Yeah, pissedoffedness power is a major plus some times.  
  
Very skillfully, I grabbed hold of Paul's bulging arm, and totally did this full back flip, with him still holding onto me. And that, my friends, was the plusses of MEDIATION. We get all these spiffy tricks like that.  
  
And by doing this, he let go unexpectedly. I back flipped away from him, and stood opposite him, panting, in a fighting stance.  
  
'No one,' I said, fuming, 'Compares me . . . to wet paper.'  
  
And I did this awesome fly-kick at his jaw.  
  
Let the games . . . begin.  
  
The battle had commenced. Jesse joined in also. I aimed a heavy punch at Paul's head, but he dodged, and shoved me back. Jesse kicked him in the chest, sending him flying into the fire.  
  
Paul yelled, but stood up and was perfectly fine. Damn ghostly healing thingies. Damn them all! He ran over to Jesse, and they began throwing all these violent punches. I darted behind Paul, squatted down and kicked his legs out from beneath him. He fell to the ground, where Jesse promptly dived on him. They wrestled around the room, Paul trying to get Jesse nearer to the fire, who could still be affected by flames. I picked up a chair, and bashed it into Paul's back vehemently. He groaned, and threw Jesse off of him, right across the room again! Then, he proceeded to attack me.  
  
'Come on, love, you know you can't win,' Paul grinned at me, as he went to punch me. I blocked him, and kicked him on his elbow. He cursed me.  
  
'Wanna bet?' I snapped, and swung at him –  
  
Where he caught my wrist. And twisted it.  
  
I cried out, and stumbled back. In pain. Ow! OW!! Shit! It felt like he'd broken it or something! Then, he leapt on me. The plus was he didn't start bashing my head against the ground like . . .last time.  
  
Blue eyes . . .  
  
On the downer, what he said annoyed me all the same.  
  
'You're pathetic, Suze. To think, if you had have just listened to me, you could have been unstoppable. You still can, if you give up Jesse, and come with me. I can teach you things you've never dreamed about. Never thought possible . . .' His breath was hot . . .  
  
Hot as the fire.  
  
Those blue eyes . . .  
  
He was leaning far over me, so close to my face.  
  
'Paul?' I said sweetly, 'Tell me . . .'  
  
He looked surprised. 'Tell you what?'  
  
'Tell me . . . ' Then, as hard as I could, I kneed up into his . . . leather pants, and saw his eyes roll up comically. 'Do they do testicle retrieval operations of ghosts?'  
  
He rolled off me, groaning. I darted up, and started kicking his leather clad body, wherever I could reach. Hard. Harder . . . Smoke . . . Tried to kill me . . . tried to kill Jesse's sister . . . Tried to make me love him . . .  
  
'Susannah,' Jesse said, and pulled me away from him, and held onto my shoulders. 'We have to exorcise him.'  
  
My eyes widened in panic. 'Exorcise him? But . . . now? How? Paul?'  
  
He stared at me. 'Yes,' he said strangely. 'You do want him gone, right?'  
  
I shook myself. What was I on about? 'Yeah, of course –'  
  
'That ain't wise . . .'  
  
Paul had grabbed me again, and had threw me down in a jumble of tables. I went to scramble up, but Paul lunged over, with something in his hand.  
  
A pointy, shiny something.  
  
Duh? A knife.  
  
My pupils shrank in horror.  
  
He ran the very tip near my neck. It stung my skin, though not penetrating it . . .  
  
My heart stopped totally. Oh, God. Suze, this is it. Say your prayers. What religion are you again? I blinked hard back at tears that were surfacing now. He traced it around the edge of my dress, all around my chest, and then stopped above my heart.  
  
No . . .  
  
'Párelo!' Jesse shouted, not daring to move. I stared down at the blade on my chest. It seemed unreal, that everything I knew could be so easily ended in one sharp movement. Breathing was no longer automatic, I had to struggle with it. I will admit, I was falling to pieces again. I'm not used to being cornered.  
  
Paul smirked crookedly down at me. His lips were shiny. 'Tables have turned, love . . .'  
  
'Don't call me that,' I snapped. It was worse that "Susie." "Love" actually implied something that I would rather jump off Mt. Everest than be true. I saw in his eyes that he knew exactly what he was doing. I knew what he was doing. If he killed me . . . he could keep me . . .  
  
In my mind, I heard his voice . . .  
  
*Just you wait, Susie.  
  
You'll fall for me soon.  
  
I'll be there to catch you.  
  
And I'll hold you prisoner,  
  
Forever . . .*  
  
And forever is a long time . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ***********  
  
Express your opinions, my chums. And still, more ideas on 9th Key! I don't have a clue! Reunion and Darkest Hour are totally sussed out, but not 9th Key! HELP!  
  
Tell me what you think about the chapter. How predictable was it that Paul was going to show and wreck the whole thing? What a prick, huh?  
  
IDEAS!!!  
  
Now, review, and tell me everything. Long reviews are much appreciated, and are received with a giggle of delight.  
  
Regards, MystAngel. 


	18. The Original Sin

Okay, long A/N here. Please read? I think this is the last chapter.  
  
Well, wow . . . guys, I am so serious. I just came back from band camp, (I KNOW! SHUT UP WITH THE "ONE TIME, AT BAND CAMP . . ." STUFF!!!) and I checked my hotmail, and it had like, 20 new emails in it!!! I was like, whoa. I mean, I not that popular. And (sniffs in honour) most of them were reviews from you gorgeous, godly, amazing, awesome people! I'm so happy, you have no idea. I'm so serious, aye. I love you all, in total non gay ways. SO MUCH! Thanks so much . . . You are all such beautiful, kind people.  
  
And one thing: CeeCee seeing Paul has a ghost has NOTHING to do with a mediating ability that CeeCee has. That was Paul. She is NOT part mediator or something.  
  
And look out for my next story:  
  
"And All That Jazz!" Parody/Humour, (Everyone in Carmel keeps bursting into song – idea from "Once More, With Feeling" owned by Joss Whedon.)  
  
Sequel to: "Get out Jesse, and never come back." – written under the name Devil at Heart. And one thing, Purtymanagirl58, I did actually write 22 chapters of that story, thus, owning the idea of the Ghost Hunters Knife, hehehe.  
  
Well? What do you think? PLEASE DO THAT REVIEW THING, SENDING ME AS MANY IDEAS FOR NINTH KEY AS POSSIBLE! I'm WAY stuck with the plot. I have basic ideas, but nothing amazing. And Luna and Lauren? That person doesn't die until Reunion, sorry. Mistake . . . One thing, a few of you are getting Ninth Key mixed up with Reunion. Michael Meducci doesn't come in for another story yet. And YES, Tad is going to be in the next one. Please, if you have any ideas or requests, try to incorporate Tad into them. THANK YOU!!  
  
I GOT AN EMAIL FROM MEG CABOT!!! (Sorry, still thrilled about that . . . Probably old news to everyone, but hey? I'm young and stupid, okay?)  
  
(Tries to suppress scream, failing,) I LOVE YOU ALL!!! AHHH!!!  
  
Okay . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** **********  
  
Paul's POV.  
  
She had laughed at my new look. What? Leather was SO in. These combat boots were to boot! My jacket only enhanced my threatening aura. What was her problem? I did this all for her! Killed this bikie dude, and everything! Sure, it had taken him a whole day to turn up as a ghost, but I'd found him in the end. I needed 'dead' clothes. So I made them 'dead.'  
  
So sue me? I was a murderer now. No use turning back, I could only go further. I had homicide pumping in my deceased veins – if they did pump, that is. My mind was no longer my own – it belonged to a killer. I was a killer now. I was a monster. I was meant to be like this. I tortured ghosts in my life, and it felt like a new beginning for me, of an evil reign. Now, as a ghoul, I was meant to use my paranormal powers to destroy, and make more of my kind. It was my calling. I knew it. It felt too damn good not to be like this. When I remembered the whipped, ghost-aiding Paul who fought side-by-side with Jesse De Loser, I want to vomit. HELPING ghosts. I'd been HELPING them. That was until old Pops had shown me my full potential – what I could really do as a shifter. Shit, I'd been powerful. I'd been the most powerful, I reckon. I'd explored places that you pathetic mortals couldn't dream about. I'd seen the dark side. Been to hell and back. Sinned the original sin. Ensnared so intensely by the darkness. Heard the screaming of the innocent . . .  
  
And she'd had the nerve to LAUGH at my leather!  
  
Well, look who had the last laugh?  
  
I had Susannah Simon a knifepoint.  
  
Ha.  
  
She was lying in what looked like an agonizingly difficult position, among the broken tables in the restaurant. She was trying to sink away from me. From the knife I had at her chest. She knew as well as I did that I would do it. And why I'd do it. I could see it in her eyes. They'd gone misty with fearful realization. They were glittering brighter than ever in the light of the fire around us. Glinting with life.  
  
Not for long . . .  
  
Her shining brunette hair fell lightly down by her pristine face, coming out of its style slightly. Amazing, how she could fight me like she had just done, and not get her hair messed up.  
  
I played the knife across her dress, tracing the patterns of the white lace. She looked as if I'd petrified her to stone, just staring up at me with that horrified expression on her face. Speechless, and plainly horrified. The emphasis around her eyes and her mouth was picturesque, almost. A raw human emotion – horror – staring at me.  
  
I smirked obliquely. There was a snake in me, squirming, constricting my organs, and urging me to kill. I burnt searingly with impurity and evil.  
  
I am the Original Sin.  
  
Say hello?  
  
I saw her lips, smooth and glossy, open in silent dread. She knew what was going to happen to her. But she wasn't going to believe it. She was denying her fate. It was a pity I had to kill her. If she was alive, then it would have been so much better for me. I couldn't reach my full shifter potential anymore as a ghost, but alive, she still could.  
  
'Get away from her,' De Silva commanded from behind me.  
  
I laughed as I ran the tip of the blade up her neck, and he hushed.  
  
'You want to know the most annoying thing about this?' I said softly De Silva. 'I can't, for the life OR afterlife of me, decide whether I love Suze more than I hate you, Jesse. But either way, Suze is going to die tonight, because then I win both ways,' I explained. And I did. If I killed Suze, then I could watch Jesse's world fall apart right before him, thus, getting even with him for murdering me. And of course, I could take Suze for myself. Well, that is, if she came back as a ghost, as most murdered people do, from what my research has told me. She'd be defenseless in her first hours as a one, as most are, unless they are fueled by a dynamic emotion. But I doubted that.  
  
I glanced at Jesse, grinning. I could feel my rage flare up again. Addictive, empowering, satisfying . . . Slave to rage . . . and proud of it.  
  
Seeing him staring at me like that, as if I was doing something wrong, it just made me so mad. Of COURSE I was doing something wrong! This was what I was all about now. He just thought he knew me so well. Ha . . . I knew him better than he knew himself, and I knew myself better than I knew him, so there. So trust me, I'm not the kind of guy you want to get on the wrong side of. I have power. Power so intense, you'll scream for release. For mercy. And I'll laugh in elation, and kill you anyway . . .  
  
Killing was an addiction as well. It felt like smoking to me. I'm serious, ever since the very first time I'd shot that porn-obsessed reception dude at that Le Grande Hotel in NY, the urge to slaughter had been overwhelming. I had been summoned to fulfill this craving. It was the screaming that I enjoyed most of all of it. Have you ever heard the sound of laughter when you tell a really funny joke, and how popular you feel suddenly? It was like a sadistic version of that. The cry before the killing. Fresh blood . . .  
  
I didn't think I'd be getting a scream out of My little Susie though. Which was a shame, really. They gave me such impetus. Especially her screams. Their shrillness, and how they tried to call upon all the blessed forces to save her – even though she didn't know it. But they never came. This was Paul Slater she was dealing with.  
  
The Original Sin himself.  
  
'So yeah,' I continued to a very stiff Jesse De Silva, 'Are you gonna die first? So you don't have to watch her die? Or am I going to kill you first? What's it gonna be, Rico? Bear in mind, if you go first, little Susie will have no one to protect her. From me . . . But if she dies first, well, you know what depression can do to a guy's sex drive.'  
  
I saw Suze give me this total "Ew!" expression, which fed my dark laughter. Jesse began to shake with fury.  
  
But it was nothing compared to my rage . . .  
  
'Tonight,' I snarled to Jesse, 'Suze is gonna see who the real man is here . . .'  
  
I looked back at my Suze, and saw that she was looking positively disgusted, now, despite the fact that her chest was rising and falling like a basketball being bounced. And trust me, I was paying all the attention I wanted to her chest now.  
  
She raised her eyebrows cynically, but still scared, I could tell. 'Er, first?' she said easily, 'I think Jesse's kind of the only real man here, Paul. I mean, let's review. He's actually "real"? Are we registering here?'  
  
My hand tightened on the handle of the knife angrily, as I held back from stabbing her there and then. She just said I wasn't real. That I wasn't as man as De Silva was. That bitch . . .  
  
(A/N: And quoting my reviewer, "Em" . . .)  
  
'And another thing,' she continued, obviously not seeing the full extent of my reaction, 'What straight guy wears leather pants and boots?'  
  
Jesse snorted in spite of himself.  
  
My mouth fell open in wild indignation.  
  
My – my – MY CLOTHES DID NOT MAKE ME HOMOSEXUAL, DAMMIT!!!  
  
That dirty bitch!  
  
With my other hand, I seized her by the chin and yanked her forward. She gasped with more annoyance than pain, now. 'You won't get away with any of this at home,' I spat at her through clenched teeth.  
  
She glared. 'What do you mean, at home? What are you –'  
  
Then, a look of panicky comprehension emerged on her pale face. 'No . . . I would SO not let you,' she sneered at me, but the alarm in her voice was as obvious as a black ink stain on a white shirt. I repositioned my arm so it was curled around her shoulders. She looked like she was going to try and dexterously roll away, but I moved the knife in my hands, so it was on the side of her neck. Fear flickered across her face like a faulty light bulb. Trying to fight it, trying not to give into the terror.  
  
Too late, sweetheart.  
  
'I'm going to have you,' I growled low, my voice soaked with suppressed passion. Her eyes went wide, and she tried to struggle out from my grip, but couldn't. I told you I'm strong.  
  
'How did you find out about this?' she demanded. 'About me and Jesse?'  
  
I smirked proudly. 'Oh, don't give me all the credit. A certain Miss Snow White revealed your little tryst, with some somewhat painful persuasion.'  
  
'What are you –'  
  
'Oh, you're not familiar with a CeeCee Webb then?' I asked innocently.  
  
Her mouth fell open.  
  
'You . . . you didn't,' she said, denying the answer she already knew. 'You're lying –'  
  
'Ask her yourself,' I shrugged. 'That is, if you ever get the chance once I'm done with you.'  
  
She received that with a heavy blow. As she should have . . .  
  
Again, she tried to thrash away from me, but I brought the knife so it was fight in front of her eyes. They kind of went cross-eyed as the stared at the tip. She went still, but I could hear the growling anger in her voice. 'You assaulted my best friend,' she stated, her tone wavering due to her anger, 'You showed yourself as a ghost, and you told her about my power . . .'  
  
I frowned. 'Yeah, that's about it, love.'  
  
She slapped me. 'Don't call me that!'  
  
I didn't hesitate to slap her back – though not as hard, 'I'll do whatever I bloody well feel like, Suze! I'm in control here. As I was since the very beginning. You didn't stand a chance against me.'  
  
'Leave her out of this!' Jesse shouted from behind my back. I groaned. He was getting annoying, wasn't he? I turned angrily to face him. 'What?' I snapped.  
  
'I said leave her out of this!' he repeated furiously, his face twisted in abhorrence. 'This is our fight, do not bring her into this! Do not involve her!'  
  
I smirked. Time to dig Suze's shit hole deeper. 'I think she involved herself, De Silva, when she responded ever so energetically to my little kiss. I'm not involving her; I'm just taking what I want. Which unfortunately happens to be your girl. I love her, De Silva. I really do.'  
  
'Oh, God,' Suze spat in revulsion, her nose wrinkling like she'd just smelt something really foul. 'This is so gross . . .'  
  
'There's nothing gross about it, Susie,' I said, turning my attention away from De Asshole. 'There's something between us. I know it's there, and I know that you've felt it before. You know it too . . . Don't you?'  
  
And then, a God send! I saw guilt flash in her eyes. For a spilt second, oh even shorter than that, but it was there! Jackpot . . . I'd caught her.  
  
'I'd rather die,' she said simply.  
  
'Well, yeah, it's on my to-do list, of course,' I nodded, and pressed the blade into her neck slowly.  
  
'Párelo! Paul, stop!' Jesse shouted. I saw Suze's forehead wrinkle in pain, as she fought a scream. 'Don't do this! It's a coward's revenge!'  
  
Oh for God's sake.  
  
I turned to him, my eyes flashing black. 'Shut UP!' I roared. I mean, seriously, did he EVER cork it? He sure didn't when I was alive. If Suze didn't make me mad, by God, he did . . .  
  
Yeah, well, he was looking pretty freaked now. Which is fair enough. I had drawn a sliver of dark red blood from Suze's neck. I twisted back to her, grinning like a madman.  
  
She was holding her breath by then. And she was shaking, trying to endure the pain. Her eyes were jammed closed. You know, like when I used to get needles? When I was a kid and I got them, I wouldn't cry, I'd just shake like mad. After that, I got tougher though. Yeah. Weird, thinking about me being a boy at a time like this. At a time when I was most certainly a man.  
  
The only man here.  
  
It was surreal. That's really the only word. Like a dream and a nightmare at the same time. Pain and pleasure. Fear and dominance. Just, my pain and fear was only a minimal. I was enjoying every moment of this. Making Jesse suffer. Making Suze mine . . .  
  
She was terrified. I could plainly see that. She was terrified of her awaiting death. Her eyes were glittering with dreading anticipation. Ha, they say anticipation is the best aphrodisiac . . . Oh, just ignore that.  
  
But it was funny, she just seemed so strong, physically and mentally. Like a fortress.  
  
Well, this fortress was under attack, wasn't it?  
  
The orange fire was spreading slowly forward, catching onto anything flammable it could reach. Consuming. Even I, a ghost, could feel it's angry heat.  
  
A mere reflection of my own rage.  
  
'Paul,' Jesse persevered, 'You must remember yourself. When you were good. Before all of this. Don't kill Susannah . . . ' Even I heard the panic in his voice there. 'There must be something inside you that remembers your conscience. You aren't a murderer. Remember what it felt like, helping ghosts? Remember what it was like helping Alice?'  
  
Bloody hell!  
  
'Holy shit, De Silva!' I shouted, now officially irritated. 'Look, I'll tell you a secret. I'm doing you a favour. Knocking you off your high and mighty horse. Alice? Yeah, she would be DEAD.'  
  
He went silent.  
  
'I killed her too. And guess what? She's not a ghost, dude. I AM a murderer.'  
  
Ha. I watched De Silva blanch to a nasty shade of white. It was amusing. I wicked smirk went broader, and I narrowed my eyes at him. Oooh, the realization had struck him like lightning.  
  
'No,' he denied.  
  
'Yeah,' I taunted quietly. 'They say it's hard to survive a thirty seven meter fall from a balcony, De Silva. Lot's of strawberry jam,' I added callously, referring to the big splat.  
  
A lost look swept compellingly across his face. This news had hurt him. Good . . . let it hurt . . . Let it burn you up inside. Let it break you, tear you, crush you.  
  
And then let me kill you.  
  
The chick had meant a lot to him. I knew that even. She'd been younger, and wasn't exactly what you'd call hot stuff. Well, at least not like my Suze, or even like Snow. Nah, she was a way Plain Jane. Daggy black hair, too many freckles, and chubby. That was why I didn't have too much fun with her before killing her. I enjoyed watching her die. Watching blood drain from her body. Watching her breaths slow until they stopped completely. I'd known well what she'd meant to De Dickhead.  
  
The world.  
  
That's what this news was costing him. I relished his denial and anguish. I could feel him racking my thoughts, searching for truth. And I could tell he'd found it.  
  
Stupid sissy-ass softie. He wasn't as strong as me. He cared too much. If only he'd listened to me. Oh well, his funeral. Hopefully very soon . . .  
  
'You've gone too far . . . ' Suze breathed.  
  
Again, I turned my head to look down at her angelic, innocent face. But this time, she was staring at me with something like . . . pity in her eyes. Pity? As in, feeling sorry for me like I was some lost cause or something. Me, lost? I doubt it. I was in perfect control, navigational and otherwise, thanks. And definitely in control of this situation. What can I say? I'm obsessed with authority . . . I ran my fingers lightly down her neck, and she sighed delicately. Mine . . . She was already mine . . . She had been from the very start.  
  
(A/N: I just got a shiver . . . I don't have a clue why!)  
  
*I'm Paul Slater, and I always get what I want . . . *  
  
'Yeah, love?' I said down to her. She gulped slightly, trying to keep it discreet. 'Well, I don't think I've gone far enough yet . . .' And I trailed the tip of the knife until it was once again right above her heart.  
  
But . . . hang on . . .  
  
There always is that other way. The way De Silva knows nothing of . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** **********  
  
Jesse's POV.  
  
He had my querida in his arms, holding her as if she belonged to him. His personal property. She was not his! She was not mine, either. She was her own self. I didn't have any right to claim her as my own yet.  
  
I didn't know how I could rationalize it. I felt something for Susannah so strong and so unique, I knew that it was something that didn't come by regularly. At all, it seemed. It was an intense feeling that made me burn, at the sight of him touching her, threatening her life. How this love had happened so fast, I shall never know. All I knew was if had, and now she was suffering the consequences for my past misdeeds against Paul Slater. He was going to kill her. Just like . . .  
  
No . . .  
  
When he uttered those time-freezing words about Alice, I felt myself go very cold all of a sudden. Drained of emotion, and reality. No, this couldn't be true . . .  
  
I concentrated on his mind, and to my dismay, I saw images of Alice's cold- blooded, rancorous murder.  
  
He wasn't feigning. I fell back a little, obscurely aware of what was happening anymore. Alice. No . . .  
  
'You've gone too far,' I heard Susannah murmur to him.  
  
And tersely, it all seemed real. Intolerably real.  
  
Ese bastardo . . .  
  
Blood started rushing through my body so rapidly, I felt my surroundings churn. All I could see was Slater and Susannah, the fire, and a great deal of red.  
  
And what was even realer was how I knew that he was going to kill Susannah. He knew I knew. He was counting on me knowing it.  
  
'And this is it,' he said wrathfully to me, 'You're chastisement for the murder of Paul Slater. I hereby declare the execution and after-entitlement of my Susie here.' I saw the tendons along his hands tense, and he arched the knife up. It flashed in the light. She screamed, and flung her hands before her eyes.  
  
NO! NOT SUSANNAH!'  
  
'Máteme!' I barked at full volume, as my heart seemed to seize up within my chest. I felt pain. And fear for Susannah. 'Do not hurt her. Release her, Paul. You will kill me. This is NOT her fault, and she has nothing to do this!'  
  
Please do not think that I'm oblivious to what I'm doing. If Paul killed me, Susannah would be safe. I knew I was keeping him here on earth. He would move on if I was dead. And, well, if that was what it took to save Susannah's life, then that was what had to be done.  
  
Because . . .  
  
I . . . I loved her.  
  
Oh so MUCH.  
  
To such extents that I was willing to die to rescue her. I'm no hero. I'm just not prepared to let that Slater slime steal away her life to spite me. Steal away my Susannah -  
  
Jesse! Do not claim her!  
  
Or you will be just like him.  
  
I blinked hard, and my hands tensed. I saw that Susannah was crying. Liquid crystal, descending from her eyes.  
  
'Jesse, don't,' she murmured. 'Don't . . . '  
  
It was devastatingly illusory. I'd always deemed my purpose to be to help ghosts. I never thought that I would die helping the living. Indeed, die saving the one worth dying for, aside from my family.  
  
I could see Slater leering at me, his eyes clouded with the dark evil that had taken him permanent hostage. I didn't want this to be happening. I did not want Susannah, mi amor, mi querida, to die.  
  
I was in love with her.  
  
Mi Dios . . . that word sounded so extraño, yet perfect when talking of Susannah. . . Love. Amor . . .  
  
(A/N: Yum . . . Chicken . . . *chews quickly and continues typing* Sorry, unprofessional of me . . .)  
  
'So?' Paul went on, 'Come here, De Silva. Then I'll let her go. God, I want to enjoy this . . . I've waited long enough, after you blessed that bloody house of yours.'  
  
'Indeed I did,' I said coldly, slowly and gallantly stepping forward. 'So I wouldn't have to see your feo face again, Slater.'  
  
'But you had to have known that I'd turn up sooner or later in one aspect of your life,' Paul said nonchalantly, as if this was a typical conversation I would have with Mamá. It infuriated me so! 'It was just unfortunate for you that it had to be your girlfriend. You know? Because I don't care what you say, or if I'm going to kill you, she's still coming with me. Mine, all mine. Ha, ha De Silva.'  
  
'You have not killed me yet, aliento de la ciénaga,' I snapped. His plan would not work . . . I hoped it wouldn't. I didn't want anything to happen to Susannah, no . . .  
  
'Paul, you can take your knife and shove it,' Suze said, glaring fiercely. 'I'm not going anywhere with you, you loser.' Then she turned to look at me right in the eye, and her expression melted into one saying, "You can't do this. I'm not worth your life. Just run, Jesse."  
  
Directly, I fired on back. "You're worth this and more. I love you, Susannah . . . I will not leave you at his mercy. He has none."  
  
A tear fell from her eye. Los ojos verdes hermosos. . . 'Jesse,' she whispered, 'Run . . .'  
  
'He's not going anywhere,' Paul intruded, standing up with her roughly. Susannah looked as though she was a rag doll. She winced as he touched the stab wound – it appeared to be – on her stomach. One he had caused . . .  
  
My hands felt charged with electricity.  
  
He'd beaten her. If he killed her . . . there was nothing to stop him . . .  
  
The fire around me crackled.  
  
It had spread to form a tight, asymmetrical circle.  
  
My head pounded dangerously.  
  
My eyes narrowed hatefully.  
  
'Come and stand right in front of me, De Silva,' he hissed. 'Real close like, you know? Or else . . .' With lightning reflexes that were matched by only my own, he spun Susannah around and pulled her viciously against him. She groaned, and he held the knife at her back, the point near her spine. She went still.  
  
'Jesse, don't do this,' I heard her gasp. 'Just go . . .'  
  
Ignoring her request. I went and stood right in front of him. But not quite close enough . . .  
  
'Hey, De Silva?' he said softly, 'Here's a departing present, you know?'  
  
And he dragged Susannah right into him, and kissed her.  
  
Hard.  
  
Right in front of me.  
  
His hand passionately clenched her back so it was arched into him, still holding the knife in the other. She was resisting, but I could see the pain she was in. She cried out, still trying to break away. But he was too fuerte for her. Almost too fuerte for me. He was the más fuerte ghost I'd ever encountered. And that is saying a great deal. I could see him grinning against her unwilling, unresponsive lips.  
  
How dare he . . .  
  
How dare he touch her like that . . .  
  
How dare he even LOOK AT HER!!  
  
Now I understood about how this rage that Paul had always spoke of felt. Mi Dios! It WAS empowering. I felt like I could blow up the earth, with the violent waves of powerful emotion that was blasting through me. I was almost knocked over by the force of it. My arms seemed to swell, desperate to release this overpowering energy. It was blinding, searing! Made me corrode from within! I fell to my knees, and roared, and jerking my head to look up.  
  
'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!'  
  
With a smash that rang in my ears painfully, the roof broke off. It flew up into the air, and was propelled all the way into the night sea. Paul broke away from Suze, who looked almost dead, panting. His eyes went wide, as he followed the roof to its strident collision with the swallowing ocean waves.  
  
But then he smirked. One that made this excruciating rage increase, two- fold. I groaned to the pain.  
  
'Well, well, well, De Silva. We HAVE been practicing, haven't we?' his voice rumbled. Susannah sank to the floor, unconscious, it appeared, and so did the knife. Paul stared unswervingly into my eyes, fixing my with an icy gaze that could have frozen the sun. I felt it chill my heart, but not to the extent where it was cold-blooded. I was good. I was right.  
  
I was going to save my Susannah from him.  
  
Do not claim her, Jesse . . .  
  
'Well? Are you ready for me?' Paul demanded, his voice loud and demonic all of a sudden. He removed his leather jacket, and threw it down just next to Susannah. I stepped forward. 'Well? Are you? I'm going to rip you apart, De Silva. You know that, right? This isn't just a vengeance fight, any more,' he snarled. 'This one's for Suze. She's mine. She always was. And there isn't a damned thing you can do any more . . .'  
  
He threw the first punch with a roar of ire, aimed for me head. I ducked, and kicked him in the chest. Instead of falling back, he did a back flip, and landed on his hands, where he jumped at me and knocked me over, landing on top of me. I threw him off, hard against the wall. I ran over to him, and threw him against the opposite wall, where he bounced, and ran at me, punching me in the stomach. I keeled over, and he savagely kicked me again and again in the stomach, until when I caught his foot, and twisted it hard . . .  
  
'Vaya al infierno, Paul!' I growled furiously at him.  
  
'Been there, done that,' he retorted, dealing a brutal blow to my left shoulder. I groaned, and knocked him off his feet with a simple kick, and went to elbow him on the ground, but the mestizo deamterialized!  
  
'Cobarde! I roared accusingly into the night. He was hiding! 'You are cheating!'  
  
I glanced irately over at Susannah, and went still when I saw that she was unmoving, crumpled on the floor, her dress exposing a great deal of her thigh. It was not for Slater's eyes. Blushing, I stumbled over, and went to pull it down, but was kicked into the air by a robust leg.  
  
'De Silva, there ARE no rules,' he snarled with vile mirth. His black aura looked a lot less dimmer . . . Huh?  
  
My back cracked painfully as I hit one of the tables, landing in the fire. I shouted as the flames tried to char my skin, but I too dematerialized to right in front of him. There, I promptly kicked him onto the burning stage area, where a drum kit was still set up, and was now ablaze. He skidded right into it, and yelled.  
  
'You are nothing but a sin,' I snarled, throwing a table at him with my controlling power.  
  
'No, mate,' he smirked. 'I'm the Original Sin.'  
  
I came to stand above him.  
  
'Give it up, De Silva!' he called breathlessly, dematerializing to somewhere. 'You can defeat a ghost, but you can't defeat me.  
  
'I can and I will!' I defied, and aimed a perfectly targeted kick at where I predicted he'd end up. He rolled onto the ground again, and I kicked his, uh . . . where ever I could reach, which happened to be his, well, suffice it to say I have them also. El pene . . .  
  
He moaned in pain, as most men do when stuck in that place.  
  
'I'm keeping her,' he grunted, 'Forever. She's not going to know what hit her. Pain night after night, just like I felt. I'm going to torture her, Jesse. Make her scream – ow, shit! – yeah, that's right. She'll beg for freedom. I'll never let her leave. Never. Suze is mine. I'll never get bored of inflicting pain. I'll never get bored of my Susie . . . ' His tone was passionate and portentous. He meant every word.  
  
That was when it happened. The rage snapped, into something beyond rage. It terrified me, almost damn well killed me even. With a roar that shook the heavens, seas and skies, I cupped my hands at Slater, and channeled the fire surrounding me, trapping him in a flaming prison where he couldn't dematerialize. He howled. My hands were burning, scorching, blazing, red, but this fire wouldn't stop until the emotion – this FORCE, was satisfied that Paul was not a threat! I yelled against the pain and the life-testing determination it took to remain there, my face distorted in agony and rage. Past rage! Miles past!  
  
He was threatening another that I loved.  
  
Possibly the most . . .  
  
Susannah, mi amor.  
  
The blistering fire enclosed him in an elemental sphere of light. He was yelling. This was causing him pain. I hated causing others pain, but this was well deserved. He was heartless. Utterly heartless . . . Jesu Cristo, he'd been about to kill Susannah!  
  
'Jesse?'  
  
It was a faint little sigh. Susannah!  
  
I ran quickly to her, as all of my rage dissolved. 'Susannah?' I said recklessly, scooping her up like I did my sisters, yet with more love than I've ever thought it possible to feel before. I gently caressed her face, and her precious emerald eyes blinked. She was powerless. Slater had done something to her, but I didn't recognize it.  
  
'Jesse,' she said with less than a breath. Her eyes fluttered closed again.  
  
'Don't let him kiss me again. It . . . hurt.'  
  
I looked back at Slater, who was looking burnt, and black. He looked as anyone would after being in a fire that powerful and deadly. Yet, as a ghost, he was healing swiftly. The fire had gone, by then. It had been used against him, and was now gone. But there was something about Slater that was wrong.  
  
Like I said, his aura, now black, was almost . . . gone.  
  
'What have you done?' I choked, holding Susannah close and tightly to me.  
  
Coughing, he said, 'Can't you figure it out, De Silva? I mean, look at her? Have you ever known Suze Simon to be that weak after a kiss? Or have you not had the pleasure yet?' he asked snidely, licking his lips.  
  
'I have kissed her,' I retorted, 'But I mean something to her. You do not –'  
  
'She tastes good, doesn't she?' he continued, his blue eyes bright and nefarious. 'Now if rage does nothing for you, she's something you can get addicted to . . . I know I'm hooked.'  
  
I went solid. How . . . how dare he talk about my Susannah in this way? How DARE he?!  
  
Jesse! DO NOT CLAIM HER!  
  
Then, in my arms, Susannah stirred again. 'Let me say something,' she mouthed, ostensible breath seeming to escape her quivering lips. I set her down, but immediately, she collapsed. Like she had done that day with that Heather ghost, but this was far worse.  
  
'Paul,' she murmured in barely a whisper. 'I want you to leave. Don't bother coming back, you won't be missed.'  
  
Paul, whose eyes were narrowed in both hurt and fury, shouted, 'You LOVE me!'  
  
'No,' Susannah said. 'I don't. I really don't. That would be illegal, and against everything I want and know. So make like a tree, dude.'  
  
Wow. Even in a near comatose state, she still had that attitude that I loved so much about her . . .  
  
She could now stand, but she still needed my help.  
  
Paul's black aura flared up. 'I should have killed you . . . '  
  
'Maybe,' Susannah said coolly, yet still weakly, 'Beauty of hindsight, right?' Well, I guess this is goodbye, Paulie. And may I compliment you on achieving what I didn't think possible. Looking more stupid than one of my friend Gina's old boyfriends trying to dress up as Frankenfurter for a Movie Buffs dance. Leather works for you . . . not. Now get out of my life.'  
  
Paul's aura shrank again. 'Oh, I'll go . . . ' he said in a murderous tone, scooping up his leather jacket from the floor and donning it, 'But I'm coming back to haunt you, Susie. I'll came back for you.'  
  
Susannah clung to me firmly, as if to prove a point. 'No, we're going to exorcise you right now, aren't we Jesse?'  
  
'Ye-' I started to say, but that el tonto débil dematerialized right there, with a dark, dazzling black light!  
  
'NO!' Susannah screamed.  
  
But there was nothing we could do. He was gone . . . For how long, none of us was to know. Not even he.  
  
'Get back here!' Susannah cried out, pushing herself away from me to where he'd dematerialized, where she promptly fell over. I dragged her back up from beneath her shoulders as gently as I could. She stared at me with popping eyes. 'That TURD!' she spat, and spouted a rapid string of unprintable cuss words, 'He got away! He's gonna come back, and, like, murder us in our beds or something, when we least expect it! He'll be all powerful, or whatever! And . . . and why are you SMILING?!'  
  
It was true. I could not help it. She was just so adorable. It was spread across my lips like a contagious virus, one that caused me no pain.  
  
'I'm smiling because of you,' I told her.  
  
'But –'  
  
Only when someone kisses you, it may be difficult to finish a sentence. As I kissed her then, anyhow. I gripped her into me, refusing to let her go. She mattered too much to be away from. My arm was wrapped around her, and the other was cupping her face. I kissed her with passion that had never channeled through me before. Her lips on mine were so sweet.  
  
I loved her . . .  
  
More than I knew.  
  
Her small arms were thrown behind my neck. She was warm.  
  
'Now, this is how kisses are supposed to be,' she said, beaming at me with love swimming in her eyes. She sighed, still weak.  
  
'Paul Slater ain't got nothing on my Jesse De Silva.'  
  
I have been claimed.  
  
~*~  
  
END.  
  
**************************************************************************** ****************  
  
A/N: Now please read Author's Note at the top if you haven't already, and respond to as much of it as you can. Please tell me your ideas for Ninth Key INVOLVING TAD.  
  
And please tell me your opinions on THIS CHAPTER! This story! What did Paul do to Suze? You'll find out next story . . .  
  
Love you all so much, and I WILL be back with another story soon, as soon as I get a plot pumping . . .  
  
Regards, MystAngel.  
  
WELL?!?! REVIEW!!! 


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